


Herculean

by chickensoup4mysoul



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: F/F, F/M, Female Reader, Humor, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mild Blood, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Female Character, Romance, also reader is like college freshman age no pedophilia in these parts no ma'am, any "& reader" relationships are PLATONIC, bear with me, i try to work stuff in as i can so uh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 93,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23764717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickensoup4mysoul/pseuds/chickensoup4mysoul
Summary: (Y/N) Brigall.An aspiring fashion student far from home, visiting the rousing Ikebukuro to study the distinguished styles that the city has to offer.It's clear to those around her that she most definitely came to the wrong place. But unbeknownst to even herself,she's exactly where she's meant to be.(drrr! x reader)
Relationships: Celty Sturluson & Reader, Heiwajima Shizuo/Reader, Kadota Kyouhei/Reader, Karisawa Erika/Reader, Kida Masaomi & Reader, Orihara Izaya/Reader, Ryuugamine Mikado & Reader, Sonohara Anri & Reader, Togusa Saburou/Reader, Yumasaki Walker/Reader
Comments: 73
Kudos: 97





	1. Warm Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> (Y/N) = your first name!  
> if something is underlined, it's in english!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> good life - sammy rae & the friends
> 
> "i got a taste of the good life, i was feelin' alright  
> and i was in the backseat, it was a long day  
> i was in a taxi on the cross island parkway,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so starving for drrrxreader content that i'm making my own HAHA BYE

Despite it being well into the night, the subway was still pretty full. Many men and women returning from a tiring day at work, some preparing for a grueling night shift, others getting ready for a night on the town. Your grip on the pole tightens as everything suddenly skids to a stop, the doors of the small space opening. You are one of the first to leave, itching to free yourself from the tight confines of the train car. After all, you had been crammed into nothing but tight spaces for the past numerous hours; a plane, taxi, busses, and a couple of subway stations. While there had to be a quicker way to complete the journey to Ikebukuro, you didn't mind gaining experience in traveling. If you were going to be living here for a year, you needed to know how to get around!

On the other hand, the presence of just as many people in the station didn't give you much more room to breathe. You know what? You'll get used to it. This is a city! An excited buzz seemed to overtake you at the reminder of where exactly you were. 

Ikebukuro. A big city as city-like as cities could get, yet still so underrated where you were from. You had only been familiar with the exact location for a short while before you actually moved there. 

Weaving through the labyrinth of individuals, you became increasingly aware of how everyone seemed to blend together. A blur of beige skin tones varying in darkness and lightness, arrays of wardrobes combined into a muted color scheme. You briefly wondered how much you, a visitor, stood out. Perhaps your choice of dress didn't do much to help.

Your platform sandals clicked against the tile of the subway station as you made a beeline for the exit. Of course, comfort was important when traveling, but not at the expense of style. A pair of striped culottes and an adorably lettuce-trimmed tank-top did the trick. A classic juxtaposition of a simply styled intricate pattern and an intricately styled, solid color. With some cute chunky jewelry as accessories, you had put together quite the ensemble for your first night in the bustling city.

Despite the independent course of study you had taken, you couldn't doubt that you had quite the knack for fashion. A knack that you were sure could lead to a wonderful career. The plan was to attend university, solidify your studies, and gain some connections that would kickstart your profession as perhaps a consultant? Designer? However, you decided that before that, you should take a gap year to expand your horizons. After all, you had only explored the world of fashion available at your fingertips through magazines and the internet. Even with your affluence, your father had never found much use in petty vacationing.

Ah, _father._

A smile of adoration overtook your face. Your beloved father. A wealthy man who took you under his wing when you were an infant and raised you singlehandedly. Even though his scientific studies greatly pre-occupied him, he always ensured that you were well-taken care of. Even now, as you are so far away, he's providing abundant financial support for your pursuit of your dreams. 

So _loving_ , so _generous_. Your heart swells at the thought.

A pleasant chill racks your body as your skin meets the cool night air. Now _this_ was the feeling that you were looking forward to. While still crowded with life, you now had the beautiful night sky, accentuated by the towering skyline. 

The journey to your apartment was a bit of a walk from the subway station. However, you'd be damned if you were going to run straight inside after being couped up for so many hours. Looking at the directions on your phone, you walk away from where it instructs, opting to follow the cluster of light that you hoped was some sort of shopping center.

In terms of cities that never sleep, Ikebukuro gave New York a run for its money. The plaza buzzed with the chatter of numerous conversations. Unlike the subway station, there was thankfully a bit more space as people passed you in different directions. You treat yourself to a short walk, figuring you deserved it. Peeking at different storefronts as you pass, you take note of the places that interest you. A cute bakery, a pet store, a gift shop, and-- _oooo_ you would definitely need to explore that clothing store!! 

You catch a glimpse of one of the mannequins and your heart has been won. You can already picture a million ways to style those pieces. Although, your wardrobe was extensive enough and you shouldn't waste father's funds...

Aw, what the heck. It was for your studies after all!

You are face to face with what feels like a wall of stone, scarcely cushioned by draping fabric.

"E-excuse me, I'm sorry!" You back up from the wall, looking up to profusely apologize to your victim.

"Is no problem! Place is full of people, best to watch where you are going." He smiles down at you. Far, far down.

Even with such a friendly disposition, there is an obvious aura of power surrounding him. However, any fear you would feel towards him is stifled by his adorable accent. Seems like you weren't the only foreigner after all.

"Of course, you're right. May I ask, would you happen to have been...er... born somewhere else?"

The dark-skinned man beams, seeming proud to answer such an awkward question. "Yes! I come from Russia. You are new face. Not from here either, I am correct?"

You laugh bashfully, discomforted by how seemingly obvious it was. "You caught me! This is my first time in Japan and I'm checking out the area."

"Ah, could not tell! Your Japanese, it is very good. Better than mine."

A sense of pride and relief washes over you. As part of the preparation process to move here, you obviously had to pick up some Japanese lessons. Luckily, you were assigned a great teacher that helped you understand the language. It was one of your main anxieties that you wouldn't be able to communicate with people, but it seems like you're doing better than you had anticipated! You beam gratefully at the man.

He catches you eyeing the flyers he's holding and immediately pushes one into your face. You take it from him, immediately taking note of the words "Russia's Sushi" written crudely in Japanese.

"You are by yourself, yes? I can assure that Russia's Sushi is the best place in town! Good when you are hungry, or when you need help with anything," his demeanor suddenly shifts, his gaze sobering in a matter of seconds, "Anything at all."

"O-oh, thank you! I will definitely visit the next time I'm in the area." You're put off by the abrupt change in atmosphere. 

"Soon, da?" Uuuuh, you feel threatened.

"Da! Soon, very soon!" You begin walking, deciding now was the time to continue on your way. "It was nice meeting you!"

It was only after you turned away from his kind smile and wave that you realized you didn't get his name, nor did you give him yours. You shrug it off, deciding not to worry about it. He's always gonna be at the sushi place, isn't he? You could find him later, no problem. 

Just a couple more minutes, you promise yourself, as you walk past one last strip of storefronts. As you approach the window of a comic book store, you're startled when the door swings open. Two walking stacks of manga emerge in front of you.

Wait, not manga. Their faces are obscured, but you can identify a woman in a long black dress and a man in a blue hoodie. They each seem to have put too many eggs in one basket, teetering back and forth to handle the weight of towers of books. 

"You sure this is all of them, Erika? We had to search every aisle of this place!" the presumed male asks.

"Of course, Yumacchi! All 50 copies of Super Tragic High School Life. Can't believe they tried to hide them."

You feel faintly guilty for eavesdropping on their conversation, but they're walking just ahead of you as you all head in the same direction. As they continue their chatter--sounded like there was some sort of special edition hidden in this series of books and they were deadset on finding it--you notice that their loads are becoming gradually harder to carry, swaying and tilting. Suddenly, the boy moves too sharply, upsetting the balance and causing his stack to tumble over.

Only a few steps behind, you scurry ahead to his side, reaching up and pushing the stack back into place before the damage is done. 

"Woah, thanks! That was a close one." The boy's face is still obscured as the he expresses his gratitude.

"No problem, it'd be painful to see so many books in mint-condition be ruined-woah!" You push back another unsteady book with your fingertips, barely reacting in time to catch it. "You wouldn't need help carrying those by any chance, would you?"

Even with their faces covered, the pair turn to each other and seem to engage in some sort of silent communication. After a moment, they turn back to you.

* * *

You follow them through the streets of Ikebukuro, having lightened a third of each of their loads. It was a wonder how they were able to find their way around; even with you helping, the stacks still reached the top of their heads.

"Took you guys long enough! And what are you doing with all that crap?" 

The presence of a new voice startles you. It was laidback and reminded you of a teenager's, not too different from the youthfulness of your companions'. You must have reached your destination. As Erika(?) explains how hard their escapade was, you hear the sound of a trunk opening before your stack is suddenly taken out of your hands. It was the man (Yumacchi?), who placed it next to the other two stacks they had stored in the back of a van.

Without any books in the way, you see that the man is blonde. It's hard to place how old he really is, his face carrying a youthful gleam, but not completely absent of mischief. His eyes are slanted and there seems to be a mystery as to what color they really are. 

"Wha-? Woah!!" As he turned back to face you, his face seemed to light up in surprise.

Nevermind, they are a lovely shade of amber. In a flash, you are face-to-face with the energetic duo. The girl, you notice, wore a black cap over dark, braided hair. Her dark eyes shined with the same excitement as her partner's. They were both cuties, you did admit, but you were more occupied with the invasion of your personal space.

"You're a foreigner!" they exclaim in unison. WOW OKAY was it THAT big of a deal?

"Hey hey, Yumacch! Doesn't she totally give off Michiko vibes?"

"You're absolutely right, Erika! Definitely the same exotic, fashionable vibe..."

You're not sure how you feel about being called "exotic", nor do you have any idea who this "Michiko" character is. Unsure of how to respond to their aggressive advances, you smile bashfully. Their faces are suddenly pulled away from you, a pair of heavy hands yanking them back by the shoulders.

"Hey, knock it off! Quit scarin' people with your crazy talk." Another new voice joins the fray. Gravelly and masculine, and honestly making you feel some type of way.

Your savior is a taller, tan-skinned man. He's dressed unobtrusively, his dark green jacket and jeans doing very little to catch the eye. A beanie cuts off some of his face, but you can still make out intense, dark eyes and a stern expression. Erika immediately whines at him for being no fun. Your ears perk at the name "Dotachin" and you wonder if it's some sort of nickname. A small distance behind him is another man, possibly the owner of the teenager's voice. His brown hair is long in length and he dons a swanky vest on top of a button-up. You muster up a sort of appreciation for his rustic sense of style.

"Sorry about those two. Judging from their pestering, doesn't seem like you’re a friend of theirs." 

“Nope! Just a random stranger off of the streets,” you jest, and relish in his apparent amusement at the statement, “I’m (Y/N)! If it hasn’t been made clear, I am visiting from out-of-town. Just arrived in Ikebukuro tonight. You’re...Dotachin, right?”

You are proud of yourself for not bursting out into laughter at the way his face contorts in a matter of seconds. The others do not extend the same courtesy, snickering at his annoyance. You can’t help but notice the glare that he sends Erika.

“Uh...no. Please. Never call me that. Kyohei‘s fine.” His eye seems to twitch for a moment and you feel a little bad. A little. “The two idiots are Walker and Erika. Guy over there is Saburo.”

Ah, so Yumacchi was a nickname as well. The two offenders are currently flipping through the manga, obviously too impatient to hold off their search. Sparing a glance at the blonde, you ponder the Western nature of his name. Erika, seeming to have calmed down, addresses you with a smile.

“So, it’s your first night here, huh? You’ve gotta be crazy to be walking around by yourself,” Erika comments, oblivious to the offensive implication of her words. You shrug, not really blaming her.

“I mean, it’s a big city, so I understand some risks but surely nothing could be any worse than what we deal with back home!” You intend to laugh it off, but the others don’t seem to share the same sentiment.

“You got color gangs back home? Kidnappings down the street?” Saburo remarks from his place against the van.

“A vicious slasher?” Erika chimes in.

“Full-out brawls in the plaza? Oooo, how about a headless rider?” Walker.

Nothing strikes you more than pure bewilderment. Of course, there was a fair share of activity where you grew up, but you were admittedly sheltered from all of it. Seems like there was a lot more to this city than you had initially thought.

“You seem like the kind of person that avoids trouble.” You feel a strong, warm hand on your shoulder and realize that it’s Kyohei’s. He seems to pull it away upon eye contact and you miss it immediately. “As long as you’re smart, you can probably steer clear of all of that.”

You smile and thank him, inwardly relieved that you had found people to tell you all of this.

“Well, I guess I should head home in that case. Wouldn’t wanna run into anything!”

“Where are you staying?” Kyohei asks. You unlock your phone to pull up the location of your apartment. However, you curse at the realization that you had gone very far off-route. Erika and Kyohei peek over your shoulder and notice your dilemma.

“We’ll give you a ride back!” Erika wasn’t offering, but outward stating. Kyohei nodded in agreement and Saburo was already starting the van up again, seemingly unbothered by the task. Welp, no reason to refuse at this point. Not like you were eager to trek back on your own, either.

“Let’s go then, and get out of this damn cold.” Kyohei gestures to the corduroy jacket you had tucked under your arm, “Don’t understand how you can just walk around carrying that jacket like an accessory. How are you not freezing your ass off?”

Compared to the van gang(that’s what you're calling them now, you’ve decided) you’re definitely more scarcely covered in your tank top and sandals. The weather had no bearing on you though, and whatever excruciating cold Kyohei was talking about was just a pleasant chill to you. 

Walker and Erika squeeze into the back, reaching back from their seats to search through more copies of the manga. You squeeze in with them, right behind Saburo in the driver's seat. The two otakus are preoccupied, leaving you to engage in small talk with the men in the front.

Kyohei is polite, asking you simple questions about how your traveling went, if you had made any other friends (You hide your grin at the word "other"), and what had brought you to Ikebukuro. You appreciate the effort, answering accordingly and avoiding oversharing. Saburo and Kyohei chuckle at the mention of a really burly, dark-skinned Russian man who, despite his open demeanor, couldn't help but be intimidating.

"Sounds like Simon, alright," Saburo comments.

"No need to worry about him. Dude hates violence. If anything, you'll want him on your side," Kyohei explains.

You hum, fiddling with the folded flier in your pocket. "Is the sushi any good?"

A huff. Probably his attempt at stifling a laugh, whatever it was, you're kind of charmed by it. "It's...good for what you pay for it."

Not exactly the most promising answer, but you'll take it. Price isn't necessarily something you need to worry about, but it seems like the place holds sentimental value. You decide that you would visit, especially if this group seems to frequent the place.

You continue giving Kyohei your life story, explaining your passion for fashion and how you came to Ikebukuro to explore the bold, nuanced styles of the city. You notice Kyohei quirk a brow at this and he even glances back at you.

"'Nuanced', huh? Why not somewhere cozier, like France? That's, like, a capital, right?"

A simper overtakes your lips at his attempt at understanding the topic. "France is overrated. I wanted somewhere where the fashion wasn't necessarily for the _sake_ of fashion, y'know? Like, Saburo didn't wake up this morning and say: 'I'm gonna wear this snazzy vest today, because that's what Sedgwick would have wanted.' He probably just wore it because it was the first thing he spotted in his closet--and that's candid, and that's valid." 

"Um...thanks?"

"And that's what makes Ikebukuro such a fashion hotspot!!"

Your rant doesn't stop there, but Kyohei respectfully listens. It's nothing he hasn't experienced with Erika and Walker's manga obsessions or Saburo's Ruri Hijiribe fixation. Still, there was something about your sense of wonder, the many things you seemed to be looking forward to--in Ikebukuro, of all places--that rubbed him the wrong way.

* * *

" _You seem smart, you can probably steer clear of all that._ " Kyohei grimaces at Erika's embarrassing attempt at an imitation of his voice. 

"How macho of you, Kyohei! Sounds like something the wounded warrior hero says to the girl that he secretly harbors feelings for, but doesn’t reveal them to keep her safe!” Even in the small space, Walker still finds a way to gesture in excitement, definitely almost hitting Erika in the face.

“Right?? Dotachin saw a lovely young damsel in distress and knew he had to protect her!”

“Shut up, willya?” 

As they drove away from (Y/N)’s dropoff point, the new visitor was still a topic of conversation. Mainly, how “macho hero” Kyohei was towards her. Granted, it wasn't unusual behavior for the man, but the pair of Otakus would not just ignore his acts of chivalry, towards a young woman, no less.

“Hey, Saburo.”

The driver hums, joining Kyohei in blatantly ignoring the foolishness occurring in the seats behind them.

“I’ve heard a lot of things about Ikebukuro, but nothing about it being a fashion hotspot.”

“Yeah, me neither. Sounds like bullshit to me.”

Kyohei stares at the rapidly moving passerby, deep in thought. Whatever this girl was here for, she certainly did not come to the right place. The idea of people so naive walking straight into the ticking time bomb that is Ikebukuro troubled him, and that wasn’t just regarding (Y/N).

He heaved a sigh, dismissing the unnecessarily convoluted thoughts about someone he had just met. It would be fine, he decided. It was just another random citizen, one who didn’t seem like the type to get wrapped up in the sort of trouble that plagues the city.

What’s the worst a fashion student could get sucked into?

* * *

Besides being stylish, your platform sandals were also the perfect level of comfort for a long day of travel. Even when you were walking for such a long time through the plaza, not once were you complaining about your feet being sore or tired.

Yeah, walking was great! Running? Not so much.

That was the main thought spiraling through your head as you all but sprinted through different alleyways.

_You thanked your new friends one last time before sliding out of the vehicle. After they drove off, you turned to look up at your apartment building. However, you immediately noticed something strange._

_The structure in front of you was not nearly tall enough to be any sort of apartment. You checked the GPS on your phone and realized that you had gotten off on the wrong side of the street. Looking closer, you could catch a glimpse of a much taller building, a small distance behind the building in front of you. You heave a sigh as you realize how long it would take to reach it._

_As you walk down the sidewalk, you notice an opening between two of the buildings. It turns out to be an alleyway, most likely leading to the other side of the street. You turn without hesitation or second-thought, distracted by the c_ _onvenience of the shortcut._

_You quickly realize that the alley isn't a straight shoot to the other side and have to turn in a different direction. In an attempt to return to your intended route you turn again. And again. and again._

_So it turns out it wasn't just one building standing between you and sweet, sweet relaxation, but actually 2 or 3. Frustration begins to build as you only seem to get more and more lost._

_"This is ridiculous, I should be in bed by now! Just how late is it?" You think to yourself, taking a quick break to check the time on your phone._

_**"Not very smart to be wandering this late at night, is it, young lady?"** _

It was a wonder how you were able to dodge the bat that was swung in your direction. After that lucky break, you immediately tumbled in another direction, desperate to avoid your assailant. However, as soon as you thought you could shake him off, another man appeared in pursuit of you as well.

"Dammit, she's fast!" You hear from behind you, and you realize that a third has joined the fray.

Your sandals aren't comfortable, no, but they don't deter your speed. The different walls and turns become a blur to you as you sprint past, desperately trying to find a way out of the apparent labyrinth you've walked into. 

As you round another corner, you collide with someone else; one of the men that were chasing you. He crumbles to the ground as you stagger backwards, nursing the sting of your forehead. Your back comes in contact with another, small body and a pair of weak arms wrap around you.

"H-Here! She's here!"

The third musketeer appears and your victim, a stout, unkempt man, sluggishly picks himself up from the ground. They are all terribly out of breath, and its pretty obvious that they're out of shape. A tall, lanky man with glasses approaches you, the bat in his hand indicates that he was the one who threw the first blow.

He's seething, infuriated by the chase, his teeth grinding and eyes on fire. He raises the bat and your breath is caught in your throat. The weapon remains suspended in the air, ready to deal damage. After a moment, he deflates, a sinister chuckle seeming to rise from the deepest parts of him.

"You've caused us a _lot_ of trouble, you know that?" The bat falls to his side, he holds out his other hand to the chubby man beside him. You twitch, noticing the quivering frailness of the arms that were locking you in place. The boy holding you couldn't have been much older than you were, of college age.

"Unluckily for you, we're not gonna end it for you so easily." He's been handed a cloth. After watching his friend douse it in liquid from a bottle, you don't want it anywhere near you. "With where _you're_ going? You're gonna wish you'd died here..."

It's so dark now, you can't imagine how late it's gotten. All you can see now are the glints in his glasses, and the cloth descending upon you.

The glints of glasses. The feeling of helplessness. Shrinking under the eyes of someone who has no sympathy for you. Whatever happened to you, it didn't matter to them.

The corner of your mouth twitches. It feels familiar.

_That's funny._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruh the van gang is UNDERRATED and they will be getting plenty of love in this story dont u worry


	2. Fashion Patrole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> come true - khai dreams, forrest, biskwiq, and wizard island
> 
> "i wanna know just how far i can go  
> every direction seems to stretch out to no end, oh  
> i could wait for all my life, and never feel the time was right  
> might break or bend but some things you have to pursue,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can rip these outfit descriptions from my cold dead hands on god

The clock on your bedside table shines almost obnoxiously among the darkness of your room.

_6:30 AM_

You heave a sigh. Your body had no business. No right. To awaken you from sweet sweet slumber like this. You blame jet lag and first day excitement.

Technically, you were here last night, but this would be your first full day! First day of watching early morning work traffic, first day of seeing foreign faces in broad daylight, first day of watching the sunrise...

That reminds you! You shimmy out from under your sheets, ignoring the cool morning air and the press of cold wooden floor against your feet. You run your fingers against the silk of the curtain, relishing in the smooth feeling before pulling it back. 

The warmth from the sun radiates onto you as light floods your room. Still mixed with deep oranges and pinks, the brightness doesn't pierce your eyes quite yet, but bathes you in serenity. The perfect wakeup call.

Father really spoiled you, landing you in an apartment like this. It was the penthouse of the building with a beautiful viewpoint. You had front row seats to the sunrise, accentuating the fluctuating skyline of the city. 

Pulling a comfy robe over your now shivering body, you slide open the door to your bedroom and descend towards the kitchen. The place looked beautiful in approaching daylight. You couldn't say that you had taken quite enough time to appreciate it last night as you stumbled into the dark space, stripped down to your undergarments and threw yourself into bed.

It was spacious, with little walls as separation. You slipped past the couch to enter the kitchen, immediately grabbing the electric kettle and filling it with water. Some tea would be the cherry on top to this peaceful morning. 

A content smile graced your lips. Hopefully the day is just as peaceful.

* * *

"Now, now, I'm not sure I appreciate such an accusatory tone."

Izaya's lips curled into an unamused frown at the pointed remarks sounding from the other side of the phone.

"So little faith! So you do care about her wellbeing after all. That's quite interesting, doctor. Quite interesting indeed...Would I be correct to assume that this concern isn't purely altruistic?"

A silence, while prolonged, is not at all empty. Pure, seething animosity seemed to radiate from the small device.

"Hm? Is it still my turn to talk? Well, let me continue then. I assure you, you have nothing to worry about."

Another moment passed before a sigh could be heard on the other line. The other speaker half-heartedly apologized, embarrassed by the loss of composure.

"Just trust me to do my job."

The call was put to an end before another rebuttal was spoken.

"It's weird hearing you speak English," Namie comments from her spot at the bookshelves. She's haphazardly dusting to hide the fact that she was most definitely eavesdropping. "That man call you again?"

Izaya Orihara sighed as he spun in his chair, massaging his temples with his fingertips.

"Yes, seems to have a very particular desire as to how he wants the job done." He leans back in his desk chair, stretching out his back with his arms behind his head. "Can't blame him though, he's certainly paying a lot."

"Is money really that much of a concern for you?" Namie remarks dully, gaze flitting over the grandiose living space that the informant was able to afford. The corner of Izaya's mouth twitches into a smirk.

"The payment is simply an added bonus. This client seems insistent that this job would be... _beneficial_ for me as well."

The woman sighs and ceases further discussion, harboring no desire to even try to fathom the man's motivation. 

* * *

Nighttime Ikebukuro was exciting. Thousands of glittering towers of light accent the jet black sky, somehow more alive than ever. 

Daytime Ikebukuro, however, carried it's own special charms. Those glittering towers of light are now simply tall buildings. Places of work, living spaces, and shopping centers. Those obscure faces that had blended together the night before were now distinct. You see individual pairs of eyes, mouths pulled into smiles and frowns, hair piled on top of heads or spilling down shoulders.

At night, the city came to life. During the day, the people did.

 _And so do their senses of style_ , you think happily. After your morning tea and sunrise, you fell right back asleep. An early start would have been nice, but you would hate yourself if you went out into the real world running on 6 hours of sleep. After you woke back up at a much better hour, you were ready to conquer the world!

Notepad in lap, you were now people-watching, wielding a pencil in one hand and a sweet roll in the other. You had been sitting there for at least an hour, scribbling down notes and even a few sketches of whatever information you deemed important. Patterns that seemed consistent, common cuts and fits, different color schemes. It was a Saturday afternoon, so many had swapped out their school and work uniforms for more casual clothes. Not only that, but many teens were out and about, which you were particularly happy about. They were the next generation--the future and hope of fashion as we know it!

A flash of blonde hair in your peripheral immediately caught your eye. You turned to see a trio, sitting not too far from you. They were young, not a day over high school age (which you're pretty sure is a little younger here). A black haired boy sat next to a girl with a black bob. They well complimented each other, you thought, both dressed conservatively. You liked the boy's color block jacket, you decide. Examining the girl's attire, you wonder if she's covered so thoroughly on purpose. Even under her long, hooded dress (kinda reminds you of Erika's), you could still make out her curvy, buxom frame.

Perhaps she was insecure about it. What a shame, you could picture all sorts of outfits that would do wonders with her body type.

The obtrusive blonde was donned by their third companion, another boy. Compared to the other two, this one didn't want to blend in at all. While his white hoodie and black jeans were typical of any teenage boy, his dye job combined with the shiny piercings and pocket chain (we love a king who knows how to accessorize) clearly indicated that he was a young man that needed to be seen.

Watching the three interact brought a smile to your face. They had a cute dynamic. As you return to writing notes, their conversation suddenly sounds clearer, as if moving towards you.

"Fine then! If you two lovebirds are just gonna push me out like that, I'll find a sweetheart of my own!"

So the girl and black-haired boy were in a relationship, huh? Poor blonde boy, he must feel like such a third--

"Helloooo, miss!"

You're startled by the sudden presence of someone in front of you. Your pen slips from your grip and tumbles onto the floor, eventually stopping at the feet of your new visitor. As they bend down to pick it up, the head of blonde hair is a dead giveaway as to who it was.

"Whoops! Didn't think you'd be that surprised by my dashing good looks!" He offers you the pen like it's some sort of rose. "Couldn't help but notice you making eyes at me! Name's Masaomi Kida, but you can call me the love of your life!"

He's laying it on thick and you are thoroughly amused. Still, you felt a little bad. If he was expecting you to swoon right into his arms, he was sorely mistaken.

"I'll stick with Masaomi. Sorry if I was staring, I love your sense of style!"

You couldn't tell if his surprise was because of your compliment, or you not immediately shooting him down. 

"O-oh, why thank you! Nice to know someone on this earth appreciates my taste."

You stand, feeling it was awkward to have him talk to you while you were still sitting down. He's flustered by the realization that you're taller than him. 

"Of course! Have you ever considered pairing those jeans with a more form fitting top? Oooo maybe even a nice pattern for contrast! A horizontal stripe would really broaden your shoulders."

It was a simple conversation point, you thought. Just a suggestion, one that some could even take as a compliment. Masaomi, however, just looked confused, and maybe even a bit disgruntled by the comment about his shoulders.

"Masaomi, are you bothering random women again? I thought you were just storming off for dramatic effect!"

You spot the approaching forms of Masaomi's friends. As the boy reprimands him--they must go way back--the girl eyes you with harmless interest. At your friendly smile, however, she looks away bashfully. Masaomi gasps, scandalized.

"Mikado, how could you? This is no _random woman_. This is my long lost friend, my lifelong companion, my dear..... _what's your name?_ "

"(Y/N)."

"(Y/N)-- _woah_ say that again?"

" _(Y/N)._ " You sound it out slowly, laughing at his nonsensical behavior. 

He dramatically repeats your name and while he isn't exactly right on the money, you appreciate the effort.

"You two...know each other?" The girl asks. You immediately fall in love with the soft ring of her voice. What an adorable girl!

You cut off Masaomi before he could fabricate anything else, explaining that no, you weren't a long lost lover of his, but he wasn't at all bothering you. 

"So, my identity's been revealed. How about you two? I heard that the black haired boy is Mikado, and you are...?"

Anri, you learn, is a soft spoken girl, but she has an air of attentiveness to her. You'd imagine that, if you had gone to regular school, she would be one of your classmates that always volunteers to answer questions and tutors after class.

"Anri," you repeat, testing the feeling and pronunciation of the girl's name, "I love your haircut! Y'know, I have a pair of earrings that would look absolutely darling with your bob, are your ears pierced?"

Anri raises her fingers to her unpierced ears almost contemplatively. You hope that she's considering it.

"I'm assuming this whole fashion advice habit is sorta your thing, huh?" Masaomi remarks, not bothering to hide the way he was scrutinizing your choice of dress. Eh, he could look all he wanted.

You opted for a dress today, layering it over a simple white t-shirt. Flowing just below your knee, the dress was a cute shade of pastel green, peppered with a purple floral pattern. 

"I guess you could call it that. I'm planning on studying it for the next four years, after all."

"Y-you're a college student!?" Mikado's bewilderment is cute. How old did he think you were?

"Technically no, not yet. I'm taking a gap year right now!"

You end up talking to the three students for a good while. Turns out they're all first years at Raira Academy. Mikado was recently in the same boat as you, having arrived in the city not too long ago. Masaomi, while having calmed down his advances, still continued making innocent passes at you. You pay no mind to it, assuming he was trying--and most likely failing--to make his two friends jealous.

You also find out that Mikado and Anri are not a couple. Although, the way they change color at the implication of them being together was very telling. Oh yeah, Masaomi was definitely third-wheeling it.

"Anri, you should come over to my place sometime and we can have a sleepover!" You say right as you all decide to go separate ways. You pull up the contact screen on your phone and hand it to her.

She seems hesitant, and almost put off by this. Thankfully, she still puts her number in and hands the device back to you.

"Aw man! Totally snubbed!!" Kida groans. You don't feel guilty enough to keep yourself from laughing.

"Sorry fellas. No boys allowed!"

You send the three one last wave goodbye before they head off, happy to have met more nice people. It was fun getting to know these kids. This was the closest thing you had to interacting with people in your age group. Most of your life was spent sheltered at home and you didn't have very many memories of having friends that weren't private teachers. It was honestly a little lonely. You could only imagine how much you had missed out on...

Realizing how sunken your spirits had gotten, you forced a smile back on your face. None of that matters now. You were in the big city, and you had already made some awesome friends! Now was a better time than ever to catch up on all of those memories.

 _Yeah_ , you decided, _I'm gonna take this city by sto--_

A man's voice. A vicious battlecry, oozing with rage and intensity. Through the furious growl, you can almost make out a name. 

Something speeds past you, the breeze strong enough to whisk the fabric of your dress. 

_Nice jacket_ , you think, at the sight of a man who at that moment was basically airborne. In broad daylight, his entire form is shrouded with darkness. A dark coat over a dark top and dark pants, topped with dark hair. It's almost in slow motion, the way he ricochets off of a bench, practically flying up onto a nearby streetlamp. 

It's once he lands that you both lock eyes. His gaze is sharp, pinning you in place. Even from the distance, you can see how the corners of his mouth stretch into a smile. It never occurred to you that a smile could be unfriendly. No, this was wolfish; off-putting.

Suddenly, you hear a loud rumbling behind you, as if something had been destroyed. Your staring contest is broken as his focus is now on something behind you. You follow his gaze in curiosity, wondering what could have made such a noise.

A... flying traffic sign. 

A flying traffic sign that was hurtling directly towards you.

It seemed to teleport, how fast it seemed to be inches from you. All you could think to do was raise your arms to your face in a pathetic attempt to protect yourself.

_Man, I can't catch a break, can I?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i LOVE THESE DUMB HIGH SCHOOLERS


	3. Mirror Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> me, myself, and i - raleigh ritchie
> 
> "always needed attention  
> i've always needed a friend  
> cure as a mean to prevention  
> i wish i had more to prevent,,

_.....lia......_

_...m....ly........_

_..n..c..a......._

_.......(Y/N)!_

You practically swallow a gust of air as if for the first time in hours. An insistent chill alerts you of the sweat that's collected on your back. You sit up from your position on what seems to be a couch. As your vision begins to focus, your heart drops at the sight of unfamiliar surroundings.

The apartment is much smaller than yours, but it's nice. The walls are a gray marble pattern, accented by dark wooden floors and furniture. Beside the front door was a small kitchen...

"Shit... Shinra! She's awake!"

You shout in fear at the realization that someone is in the room with you. Grabbing the nearest thing to you--a couch cushion--you hurl it at them.

"S-stay away from me! My father will look for me if I go missing! Lay a finger on me and so help me, I will--!"

"Woah, calm down, dammit, I'm not gonna hurt--"

He's cut off by another cushion to the face. 

"What's going on in here?" Another man enters the room.

You shriek this time. Oh my god, _you've been kidnapped._ You've seen it on TV. These men kidnapped you and now they were gonna torture you and then stuff you into a suitcase and leave you on the streets...

The other man was wearing a doctor's coat.

.... _Oops._

You suddenly remember where you were before you got here. That traffic sign must have rocked your world, and now you were in a hospital.

"Shizuo, you don't even know this girl!? You've scared her senseless!" The man in the labcoat carefully kneels in front of you. His face is friendly, smiling in an attempt to soothe your nerves. "I'm Dr. Kishitani. You were hurt a couple hours ago and Shizuo brought you to me to help you."

His glasses and coat, reminding you of your father, are comforting. You try to regain your composure, hoping this wasn't some elaborate ruse and that you could actually trust this man. What a strange hospital this was.

"I-I'm sorry...I was frightened. Thank you for helping me."

"Well, no need to thank me. I didn't need to do much!"

You're confused by his statement, but a movement from behind him draws your attention. The other man stood up from a chair across from you. He begins to approach you but appears to psyche himself out, maintaining a distance.

"Are you...okay...?" The way that he's avoiding eye contact, gaze glued to his feet and hands stuffed into his pockets, reminds you of an elementary schooler being forced to apologize.

Also--he's dressed like a bartender? And he's blonde. And also wearing sunglasses inside. 

"I feel fine." You answer. _It's not that bright in here_ , you want to say. They're stylish, you guess, but that's a faux pas.

"Good."

You're staring at each other now. You wonder what color his eyes are, what it would be like to truly sit under his naked stare. 

He's handsome.

THAT was an intrusive thought.

Dr. Kishitani clears his throat in attempt to break the awkward silence. 

"Well, um...I'm gonna get you a few things, now that you're awake. Sit tight!"

He practically teleports away. The blonde glares at the spot where his friend used to be.

"So...your name is Shizuo?"

"...Yes."

"Well, Shizuo...thank you for bringing me here." You honestly don't know why a complete stranger would do this, or why he seemed to bring you to a friend instead of a normal hospital, but you were alright now, so you couldn't complain.

"Don't mention it."

And then it was silent again. You both sat there, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity. However, looking at Shizuo, you could tell he wanted to say something, opening his mouth before quickly clamping it shut. Finally, he seems to work up the courage.

"You're....When did you find...h-how long have you been--."

"I'm baaaaack!" Dr. Kishitani ascends from his place of escape, carrying a glass of water and various pill bottles on a small tray. He sets it down in front of you, ignoring Shizuo's glower. "I know you feel fine, but here's a little pick me up, just in case!"

You gratefully accept the painkillers, swallowing them down with a drink of water. As you move, you notice the lack of first aid on your body. Save for two kitten patterned bandaids on the backs of your forearms, the rest of you had been untouched.

"Are you sure I won't need any other kinds of treatment, that sign came at me really fast..."

Dr. Kishitani glances at Shizuo, whose brow furrows.

"Hmmm, nope! Unless you want to sport more of these really cute band-aids, you're good to go!"

"Well, you're the doctor. Thank you again, Dr. Kishitani--"

"Shinra's fine!"

"Shinra, okay. Thank you. I don't know what your rates are, but I'll let my father know what you've done for me and he'll contact you regarding your payment."

"Don't worry about it. I've got it covered."

You turn to Shizuo in bewilderment. It's not a problem, you try to explain, your father has no qualms with supporting you financially. 

"No, I insist." 

"Don't bother trying to persuade him, he's not budging." Shinra chimes in, almost amused by the domestic nature of the argument.

You sigh. Guess there's no use then. You thank him again, but he shrugs it off. It's obvious that you've overstayed your welcome by now. Shinra let's you keep the painkillers. You tuck it into the pocket of your bag and go to leave the front door.

"Wait!" Shizuo's sudden outburst startled you. It was the most energetic he had been since you woke up. "W-What's your name...?"

You barely hold back your laughter in an attempt to avoid bruising his ego.

"(Y/N) Brigall. It was nice meeting you both!" With that, you shut the door behind you, eager to remove yourself from the strange situation.

* * *

"Wow, Shizuo, no wonder you don't have a girlfriend! You're so awkward!"

Shinra expects the usual flare in anger from his longlived friend, however, Shizuo is obviously distracted. "...You're that focused on it, huh...? Looks like you're not that alone, afterall!" 

At those words, the words that had been echoing in his had for the past few hours, Shizuo sighed. _Not alone_. It was embarassing, how well Shinra could read him--how obvious his fixation was.

"Thanks for doing that for me...I owe you."

"It's what Celty would have wanted me to do!"

Shizuo scoffs at the statement, but does nothing to question it. If he had really done damage, if he had hurt an innocent bystander, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

"Still... _Brigall_. I can't help but feel like I've heard that name before...." Shinra scratches his chin, deep in thought, "Hm... nah! Can't be anything important."

He wanted to talk to her--get to know her more, he thought. But he was terrible at talking. He wouldn't be surprised if he scared her off. She acted like a normal young woman, what would she want to do with him...? Maybe he was foolish...

Maybe he was being foolish to think that he may have found somebody that was like him.

* * *

_That was weird that was weird that was weird good GOD that was weird--_

Following the GPS on your phone, you scurried as far as you could from the apartment building. It was now transitioning later into the evening, the sky painted purples and oranges by the descending sun. You really had slept the day away.

It was shocking how sprightly you were after apparently having undergone such a debilitating incident. You didn't remember much besides the image of a traffic sign shooting rapidly in your direction. Your hands ran absentmindedly over your forearms, caressing the cute band-aids there and pressing on them curiously. Maybe someone had saved you at the last minute, and you fainted from the shock. That would explain the lack of injuries.

Well, now you were frustrated. Your first full day in Ikebukuro hadn't gone exactly as you planned thanks to that little debacle. Still, you were glad that you were okay, at least.

"...Hey!! We have got to stop running into each other like this!"

Someone has pulled up next to you on the sidewalk. Hanging outside of a van window is none other than Erika, shouting and waving her arms like she's not literally two feet away in front of you. The sight of a friendly face does wonders for your spirits.

"Erika!" You exclaim happily, trotting up to the window. To your joy, the rest of the gang is there as well. They must be connected at the hip. "Hey, you guys!"

"We were just headed out for dinner, care to join us?" Kyohei offers. Quite frankly, your heart soars. Erika opens the door for you and you crawl in next to her. 

"Don't mind if I do! Where are we headed?" You catch a glimpse of Kyohei's grin in the rearview mirror.

"Place is called Russia's Sushi. Don't know if you've heard of it."

"Hmmm, doesn't ring a bell..." you jest. You're cut off by the sound of your own stomach and you realize that you haven't eaten since your lovely sweet bun from that afternoon.

"Geez, pedal to the metal before she starves to death!" Walker jokes. That makes you laugh.

You were thankful for them, and the way they could make you forget about your chaotic day so quickly.

* * *

"Well, if it isn't Bossman Kadota! Good to see you again!" Instead of his initial position outside, handing out fliers, Simon is inside the restaurant, waiting tables and greeting customers as they enter. As he ushers the group inside, he notices you and smiles. "Ah, friend! I see you are settling in nice, yes?"

You return his smile, now used to his intimidating nature. You follow the rest of the gang's lead as they remove their shoes. A bit of embarrassment swells in your chest at the sight of your polka dotted socks next to everyone else's normal gray socks. Kyohei, probably having done this many times before, leads you all to a separate room where a table resides. 

You plop down on one of the cushions next to Erika, who you notice has taken off her cap. Her hair is in a sort of french braid, gathered to the side. 

"You're hair is so cute, Erika!" you all but squeal, excited at this pleasant revelation. The flush on her face is surprising--you didn't peg her for the easily flustered sort--but not unwelcome.

The sight of Kyohei sitting across from you, however, has your own face feeling a little hot. The man had removed his beanie, revealing a slicked back head of hair. His brows are bold, sharpening the intensity of his gaze. The way that beanie had aged him was criminal. He didn't look nearly as old as you thought he was, only in his early to mid twenties. Yeah, that's one good looking man right there. 

Someone clears their throat and you realize that it's Kyohei, having noticed your prolonged attention on him. You...knock your silverware off of the table so you don't have to make eye contact with anyone for a minute. 

Simon, bless his soul, saves you when he brings tea to your table and takes your order (you don't hear what Kyohei orders over the sound of your own internal screaming). Eager to taste the herbal liquid, you lift the cup to your lips and take a sip. The steam has a pleasant scent and soothes your nerves. When you look up from your cup, Saburo is staring at you, wide-eyed.

"How can you even touch that? Shit's piping hot!" You look around at the others and notice that no one else has touched theirs. Oh no, was this a custom thing? Were you supposed to wait??

"R-really? Mine's fine, maybe Simon put ice in it or something..." The others glanced at your semi-drank cup, steaming just as much as everyone else's.

"So, (Y/N), how was your first 24 hours in Ikebukuro?" Erika asks.

"It was certainly something! Made some friends with a couple of high school students. This really cute boy and girl with glasses--definitely crushing on each other--and this really silly blonde kid. They were a fun group." Walker and Erika glance at each other. They're definitely doing that thing where they communicate telepathically.

"We know those guys!" Walker reveals and Erika nods in agreement.

"Oh, you do? Their names may ring a bell. Anri, Mikado, and..."

"Masaomi." Your heart almost drops at Kyohei's tone. It's not contemptuous, no... but it carried weight. It's startling how quickly the mood seems to change. All four them are exchanging looks now and you feel kinda left out.

In comes Simon and you're starting to suspect that he's eavesdropping with the way that he arrives at the most convenient times. He places a plate of...interesting food in front of you. "I made sure to prepare the best assortment... for first time!" You smile gratefully at the man. He really was a kind guy! 

"Thanks! Looks great!"

At first you try to use the chopsticks provided to you, but you quickly realize that everyone else is eating with their hands and that you look stupid. The flavor is... unique to say the least, but your tray is still empty in a matter of minutes. 

"Oh, and that wasn't the only thing," you continue once everybody was finished, "You guys warned me about 'headless riders' and 'vicious slashings', but you didn't say anything about flying traffic signs!"

Kyohei stares at you incredulously. "Flying...traffic signs?"

You go on to explain your time in the park, and how there was suddenly this skinny guy in a fur jacket--very stylish, you had to add--and he's parkouring it all over the place. Then, an entire traffic sign comes hurtling at you, out of nowhere! You don't know exactly what happened after, you tell them. You then describe how you woke up in some weird doctor's apartment where you met this bartender blonde who--get this-- wore sunglasses inside.

Everyone is gawking at you now. Self consciousness quickly wins you over, and you laugh sheepishly at your little spiel.

"Sorry...that does sound really made up, huh? I'd get it if you didn't believe me."

"No...no we believe you," Kyohei sighs, rubbing his temples. Had you done something to upset him..?

"There _was_ a fight between them today, wasn't there...? Wow, I can't believe you managed to get caught up in the middle of that! That's, like, peak main character energy right there!" You have no idea what Walker is talking about.

"Fight...? 'Them'? Who's 'them'?"

"Izaya Orihara and Shizuo Heiwajima." Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the names that leave Saburo's mouth.

 _Shizuo...??_ _And that other guy..._

The sound of that roaring battlecry echoed in your head and you remembered how it had almost sounded like a name to you.

So Shizuo was somehow involved in all of that? You had thought he had been a random bystander? He had been so docile when you first met him, could he really be that vicious? And if that dark-haired man was Izaya...

Was it _Shizuo_ that had hit you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't...take painkillers on an empty stomach mkay??  
> also--not sure which characters to introduce bc idk WHERE IN THE TIMELINE THIS IS so lmk what characters y'all wanna see!!! might just throw em in as i want bc this is self indulgent so  
> (can y'all tell how thirsty i am for kadota kahfkhfahkdf)


	4. Eye to Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yoko ono - moby rich
> 
> "all i wanna spend is one more night  
> between your sheets, behind your eyes  
> keep your money, you can take my time,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i make v occasional references about reader being tall (cuz i need my REPRESENTATION) but please remember that reader's shoes all have platforms in them because *fashion* so she can be a short queen if that's what ur little heart wants <3

It felt like you hadn't laid in your bed in five years. You wholeheartedly wanted to nestle completely into the silk sheets and wade away to snoozetown, but your brain wasn't ready for sleep yet.

_"The bartender guy you met is Shizuo Heiwajima. Dude's super strong and he's got a bit of an anger issue." Saburo continues explaining._

_"He's a good guy, though. As long as you stay on his good side--and out of his way when he's pissed off_ (you failed at that part) _, you're alright_ _."_

_"Dotachin and Shizuo go way back! They've known each other since high school." Erika whispers into your ear. Is she trying to be subtle? She's failing._

Kyohei seems like a good judge of character, you can trust him, right?

_"And what about this... Izaya Orihara?"_

_"Not the best guy."_

_"Bad news."_

_"Better off steering clear of him."_

So the consensus on this Izaya character is that he is...bad. To say the least. After seeing what a sore subject the guy was, you refrained from questioning further.

From what they told you, seems like you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, caught in a battle between two men who hated each other (although Erika thought they were in love with each other but no one wanted to unpack all of that). You wondered what could have started such a rivalry. They seemed to like Shizuo, but not Izaya. Was Shizuo the good guy? Was Izaya the bad guy?

A chill ran down your spine as you remembered the moment you made eye contact with him. The smile on his face that you couldn't seem to look away from. ~~He wasn't too bad looking either~~ Ew shut up.  
You remembered Shizuo and the way that he couldn't even look at you in Shinra's apartment. What was going through his head? Was it remorse? Self-loathing? He had hurt you, after all. Did he expect you to hate him? Was that why he had so much trouble talking to you?

Eventually you were able to fall into a deep sleep, but not without the persistent thought of the tall blonde bartender who insisted on wearing sunglasses inside.

* * *

The man's uninterested gaze morphed so quickly into a look of stupefaction.

"What'd you just ask me, little missy?"

"I said, does a Shizuo Heiwajima work here?"

You don't quite appreciate the way he laughs in your face. He garners the attention of two other bar patrons sitting near by.

"You fellas hear this chick? Says she's lookin' for Shizuo Heiwajima!!" They join him in his laughter.

"Well, is he here, or not? That's all I'm asking," you press, unamused.

The man's smile disappears, replaced by a scowl. He rests his weight on the countertop between you in an attempt to gain a few inches on you--you're happy you wore platforms today.

"Listen here, Fancy Pants. I dunno what kind of trouble you're looking to get into, but you ain't gonna find it here."

".....so he's not here."

"Get outta my bar!"

Before you're out the door, you make sure to mutter a comment about the odor of the place before scurrying off (Yes, you WILL throw rocks from your glass house--and what about it??).

Storming along the sidewalk, you huff in frustration. That was the fourth or fifth bar, and the previous few had treated you the same. You thought people were supposed to be polite here!

After your pondering session last night, you decided that you wanted to talk to Shizuo. You thought that the best place to find the man would be at his place of work, but so far you had no luck. Now it was almost noon, you had no signs of Shizuo, you had been stared down by several too many sleazeballs (you regret wearing a tube top today but they shouldn't look at you like that no matter what you were wearing!), you were hungry, and you were pretty sure you had entered the sketchy side of town. 

You clutched your cellphone close to your chest as you strolled past a rundown looking apartment building, prepared to dial a number if anything were to go down. 

""ᵂᵉˡˡ, ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉᵐᵉⁿ ᵒᵇᵛᶦᵒᵘˢˡʸ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵃ ˡᶦᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵈᶦˢᵗʳᵃᶜᵗᵉᵈ, ˢᵒ ʰᵒʷ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵇᵉˀ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃˡˡ, ᶜˡᵉᵃʳˡʸ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉⁿ'ᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵉᵐᵒᵗᶦᵒⁿᵃˡ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃⁿᵈˡᵉ ᵗʰᶦˢ ʲᵒᵇ ᵃⁿʷᵃʸᵎ"

Wow, the walls in those apartments must be really thin, you can almost hear every word they were saying in there! Now some man was practically roaring and--

wait. You had definitely heard that roar before.

You are alerted by the sound of shattering glass. A man crashes through a window, followed by--is that a washing machine? They soar through the air, flying right over you before crashing to the ground, only a few feet away. You wince at the sight, but breathe a sigh of relief at the sound of the man's groaning confirming that he's still alive. You turn back to the building from whence he came, spotting a dark-skinned man looking out that same shattered window. Even from the distance, his sigh is audible as he removes his glasses and rubs his temples.

"Now you've done it...Shizuo!"

Your ears perk up at the name. Could that be...? Lo and behold, from next to the bespectacled man emerges a head of blonde hair. "Hey...H-Hey!!! Shizuo!!" Excited by the discovery you yell out to him, waving your arms in hopes that he would see you. At the sound of the familiar name, Tom Tanaka spots you, nudging Shizuo. "You know that chick...?" He asked, staring amusedly at the weirdly eager girl.

Upon seeing what Tom was talking about, Shizuo's cigarette dropped from his mouth to the floor. Standing right there, waving happily at him...

...was the girl he had almost _killed_.

"I found you!!!" You laugh, happy to have gotten his attention.

* * *

Tom is well aware that Shizuo is a grown man with a private life of his own. However, as he resides here, sitting across the table from Shizuo with a foreign girl between them--one that he apparently _knows_ \-- he can't help but shoot him an accusatory look.

_How could you not tell me about this!?_

Shizuo could already tell that Tom was deeply misreading the situation. The way he glanced between him and the girl as they ate lunch left little to the imagination as to what he was thinking. In response to his pointed stare, he could only stare right back and attempt to telepathically communicate.

_I don't know what's going on either!_

You were really enjoying this rice. The way you scarfed down the contents of the bowl was probably not ladylike, but you had earned a good meal after your wild goose chase that morning. You had expected Shizuo and Tom to converse a bit more since they seemed to be coworkers, but everyone at the table was just silently enjoying their food.

After catching up to the pair, you had asked Shizuo to go out to lunch with you. Except for the fact that his coworker was standing right there and, not wanting to be rude, you panicked and ended up inviting both of them. That was stupid, obviously, because now you couldn't really discuss the things you wanted to. 

"So..." you're thankful to Tom for breaking the silence. Shizuo is not. "You two know each other...?"

You sneak a glance at Shizuo, wondering if he'll answer. He does the same to you, and you both end up having a moment of awkward eye contact (as much contact you could get with those damn sunglasses). He quickly looks away, scarfing down another mouthful of his food.

"We're... _familiar_ with each other," you answer vaguely. Tom's eyebrows shoot up like rockets and you quickly decide that that was the _wrong_ answer, "I mean!!! We've met briefly before, but that's about it."

"I see." _Bury me alive._

"So...you both are...debt collectors?" You try.

"That's right! Shizuo here is my bodyguard!"

"That dangerous of a job, huh?" A _bodyguard??_ You were scrounging around every bar for _nothing???_ An image of the man and the washing machine flying over your head flashed in your mind and you winced. Guess he must have done something to threaten Tom.

"What about you?" Unlike Shizuo, Tom had no trouble asking questions. "You're not from here. What's your calling here in Ikebukuro?"

You gladly went on your classic story about your studies and prospective career, and how settling in Ikebukuro would aid you in pursuing said career. From your peripheral, you noticed Shizuo's intense focus on you as you spoke. It takes everything in you not to crumble under his gaze, maintaining eye contact with Tom in an attempt to calm your embarrassment.

"You really think we dress all that great??" Tom fiddles with the collar of his shirt.

"Oh, absolutely! You are a very fashionable man, Tom. But besides the aesthetic, your clothing choice serves a purpose. The suit provides professionalism. Obviously, your work requires people to take you seriously, but the striped button up is rustic. It keeps people from underestimating you. It's the perfect juxtaposition!"

You were ranting again, but Tom seemed to eat up the validation. It's definitely a myth that men don't care about what people think of their style. On the contraire, they take great pride in it! You turn to Shizuo who, not expecting the attention to be turned on him, almost flinches under your gaze.

"And, though I didn't completely get it at first, I can understand how a bodyguard in a bartender's outfit would be most intimidating. A man working such a blue-collar job definitely wouldn't be afraid to get his hands dirty!"

"Uh...right." Shizuo knew damn well that he wore those clothes because they were a gift from his brother, but you looked so excited. The word _understand_ continued to echo in his mind. It was strange to you, how he dressed, but you didn't judge him for it. You almost seemed to find it admirable.

"Well, seems like you really know your stuff!" Tom smiles smugly at the look on Shizuo's face, and for the first time since they were teenagers, Shizuo might actually be willing to punch him.

You smile proudly, completely oblivious to the tension building between the two childhood friends.

* * *

So, Tom ran away before Shizuo could kill him, using the excuse that he had some sort of "paper work" to do at home. In reality, he was just deserting Shizuo to walk you home alone. The two of you trek silently in the direction of your apartment. The trip was silent except for the occasional direction from your GPS, and the click of your platform sandals against the side walk. It was killing you, how neither of you could say anything. You had so much to say!! But how were you supposed to say it??

_Hey, I know it was you who almost killed me, but your friend from high school said you guys were cool, so it's all good!_

You could only keep walking, occasionally sneaking glances at him. It was still well into the afternoon and the sun had reached it's peak among the sky. Even shining at its brightest, the sun's rays did little to reveal the eyes that hid behind those stupid sunglasses. It was hard to tell whether or not he was even looking at you.

"The uniform is fine, but you'd look so much better without those sunglasses hiding your face." GIRL _WHAT_.

You both stop walking at the same time, you in shock, and him in _god knows what._ He turns to look at you for the first time since you had started walking.

"I-I'm sorry how rude of me!! Here I go, thinking, I know everything about what everyone ought to be wearing! Honestly, if you feel better wearing those then--!"

"You really think I'd look better...?"

You're stunned silent by his calm, contemplative tone of voice. He stares at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.

"W-well, I mean... you'd look fine with or without them. It's more about...how you appear to others, y'know what I mean. You..make better connections with people when you can make direct eye contact with them!! Also, I know some consider it rude to wear sunglasses indoors, but on the job that might work for you for intimi...dation..."

When you look back at him, his glasses are tucked into his vest pocket. Deep brown eyes. The most typical eye color, shared by almost every person you had passed that day. His gaze was strikingly....human. This man who possessed great strength, known for going on rampages all over Ikebukuro, who you had just watched hurl a man through a window with his own _home appliance,_ stood before you looking so _pure._ You suddenly feel shy, like this was some sort of intimate moment but _chill out, girl the man only took off his_ glasses.

"Y-yeah...yeah that's much better." Neither of you move, simply standing there, staring at each other. _Now's the time,_ you goad yourself, _Here's your chance_ _to get it off your chest!_

"I'm not mad at you for--" "I'm the one who--" "--throwing that sign!" "--threw that sign!"

Seems like you both seized the opportunity, breaking the silence at the same time. His eyes widened and you briefly relish the way the light catches them.

"You knew...?"

You told him about Kyohei and the van gang. How they had told you of his feud with some guy named Izaya, and his super strength. "I know I was caught in the wrong place and you didn't mean to hit me! And you made sure that I was okay after, which was really kind of you! So...please don't think that I'm holding anything against you."

Shizuo can only stare at you now. He had honestly not expected this to be as easy as it was. Guilt had been eating away at him ever since you walked out the door of Shinra's apartment. All he could think about was how much you would hate him if you found out. How terrified of him you would be when you realized his true nature; the violence, the short temper...and here you were, trying to make _him_ feel better.

"Can I see...your arm...?" He's a spitting image of when you first met him--bashful and hesistant--except now, without his glasses, he was so much more vulnerable. His focus was locked on you, always on you. The request confuses you, but you see no harm in it. Palm facing down, you offer him your right arm, lifting it closer to his face so he can see whatever he's a so interested in.

You had long ago removed the band-aid, he noticed. The day before, when he carried your unconscious body to Shinra's home, he hadn't had the courage to look too closely for fear of seeing just how much damage he had done. Upon closer inspection, the only remnant of the previous day's events was a darkened mark, similar to the burning of rubber tires against asphalt. It was minuscule; if he hadn't looked closely enough, he would have missed it. His eyes are owlish, shifting between your face and your arm. You would pay a million dollars to be able to see what was going on inside his head right now, because at the moment you had no clue.

"Any idea when you might be done...? My arm's getting a little bit tired." You cover it up with a joking smile but the burning in your biceps is no laughing matter. He coughs awkwardly and returns your arm, not even realizing that he had taken it into his hands in the first place. "Well...that was a nice break! Let's keep on moving!"

The rest of the walk is more on the pleasant side. You engage in small talk and whenever a silence did fall, it was comfortable, with no pressure to keep forcing conversation. The more the two of you converse, the less enigmatic that he seems. You begin tallying the things you've learned about him in your head: how close he is to his brother, how far back he and Tom go, how weird his other friend Shinra was. Unbeknownst to you, he's doing the same thing to you as well. It's easier on his end due to you doing most of the talking, and he's thankful for that.

A chime resounds from your cellphone, signaling that you had arrived at your destination. "Oh! Looks like this is me," you point to the tall building the two of you were approaching. "Thank you for walking me all the way here!"

"No problem."

You turn your back to him, ready to turn in for an evening at home, but something stops you. Abruptly, you return, pushing your phone into his face. "W-we should do this again!! Like, hang out, I mean, if you want to!! It's okay if you don't..." The moment you stutter out the first words, it's a downward spiral from there and you're already going through the five stages of grief. Shizuo saves you from your own embarrassment, accepting the device from you and typing something in. When he hands it back to you, you see that he's put himself in as a contact. When you look back at him, he's smiling. There's no smugness or ill intent to it, just a simple quirk of the corners of his mouth. It suits him. A _lot_. 

The two of you exchange goodbyes before he leaves in the direction you came from. You briefly wondered if he'd be able to retrace his steps well enough to get back okay, but then you realize that if he were to get attacked he could just knock his assailant to kingdom come. Boarding the elevator up to the top floor, you allow a chuckle to slip out. Yeah, he'll be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reader's a lil bit no thoughts head empty but aren't we all a lil bit no thoughts head empty


	5. Birds of a Feather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> everything is gonna be alright - infinity's song
> 
> "quiet whisper in the dead of night  
> tells me everything will be alright  
> if i keep my head to the sky  
> everything is gonna be alright,,

"Namie, if you had to choose between the sayings 'opposites attract' and 'birds of a feather flock together,' which one would you say is most accurate?"

Izaya had been eerily silent ever since Namie came in that morning, making no sound other than the insistent typing of computer keys. She'd think that the silence would be welcome, but going so long without an earful of her employer's antics was starting to irk her. She wouldn't admit to the relief that she felt when he finally opened his mouth for the first time that day. 

"Opposites attract, I guess. If you ended up falling in love with someone the exact same as you, you'd butt heads and get bored of one another." She briefly thought of Seiji and their similarities, or lack thereof. They wouldn't get bored of each other, would they...? She could never get bored of him.

"You'd think that, but statistically, you're wrong. Studies have shown that people with similar traits tend to last longer in relationships. Traits, personalities, _genes..._ I thought _you_ would get that more than anyone else, Namie." She missed when he was silent.

"What's with all of this relationship talk all of a sudden? What, you found a girlfriend or something?" She doesn't miss how the smirk on his face disappears and realizes that she had hit a nerve.

"I love _humans,_ Namie. Nothing else."

It's a starkly out-of-place declaration, hinting that something else is most definitely on his mind. Namie, used to his cryptic antics, shakes her head and returns to her work. Izaya, however, has not mentally dropped the topic. He loved humans--even if they didn't seem to love him back. It was fine, intimacy and romance was in no way a priority of his. As he got caught up in his field of work, it wasn't even something that he thought about, not until now.  
His eyebrow twitched in aggravation as a familiar image appeared in his head. He hated the feeling of envy, he decided. His life was fine, better than that of anyone else's, even, definitely that of...

He huffed through his nose, picking up one of his cellphones.

If _he_ wasn't able to find love...

then how was that _monster_ finding it??

Scrolling through his recent calls, he stops at one of the familiar contacts. With little hesitation, he presses the green 'call' button beside it. The phone rings for a moment before he hears a click.

"Hello, this is Izaya Orihara. I have some info that you would find most useful." 

* * *

It's so rude of you to stare, you know, but it's a stare full of awe, so hopefully you didn't offend. She was a friend of Shizuo's, so you wanted to make a good first impression. You had been on an outing with your new friend. It was embarrassing how soon you had texted the man after your walk together, but he had thankfully agreed to showing you around, telling you about his favorite places and others that you should avoid. One of your favorite places that he showed you was a pastry shop. You found his apparent sweet tooth to be very cute. It was near the end of your time together that a woman(?) pulled up next to you both on a motorcycle.

The sight of her badass yellow helmet, paired with her form-fitting bodysuit gave you excited jitters, honestly. Of course, Shizuo would be friends with such a cool person. Shizuo introduces you both, and you learn that the woman's name is Celty. You also realize that she must be mute, as she doesn't communicate verbally, but by typing out messages onto a small device.

" **Nice to see you up and well. How have you been feeling?"** Confused by the message, you quirk an eyebrow at Shizuo.

"Celty lives with Shinra, that doctor you were talking to a few days ago. She saw you there, but she left before you woke up." he explains. Wait, so she had seen you all passed out on her couch?? How embarrassing!! You pout, trying to calm the burning in your cheeks. 

"I-I'm feeling great, thank you for asking--and thank you for letting me crash like that on your couch! Still, I hope you don't think I'm like... a _wimp_ or anything...I usually don't go down that easy!"

Her shoulders bob up and down as if she's laughing and you find it very charming. She types something else on her device and shows it to you.

**"Believe me, Shinra told me all about you. I don't doubt that for a second. Anyone would go down quick against Shizuo."**

All about you?? Don't doubt it...? What exactly had Shinra told her? Shizuo continues conversing with Celty while you spectate, but you're too caught up in your own thoughts to fully listen. At the mention of a familiar name, your ears perk. You notice the tension in Shizuo's jaw.

"Any idea what that flea was doing here, anyways? You'd think he'd know better not to show his face around here." Ah, so Celty knew him too.

 **"I don't bother trying to figure out what he's up to. Shinra was on the phone with him recently, I could ask him if you're really curious."** Shinra as well, huh? Shizuo shook his head, willing himself to relax.

"Nah, I don't really care, so long as I never see him again."

You had come to learn quite a bit about Shizuo, but one thing you never dared to mention was this Izaya character, not since you both confessed your feelings about the traffic sign incident. It was clear how much even thinking of the man made him seethe with rage. Still, a part of you was growing achingly curious about him and what he had done to garner such hatred from Shizuo, and disdain from everyone else. It would be rude to ask Shizuo about it, though. You would have to wait until you could ask someone else.

Shizuo offers to walk you home, but you refuse his offer, explaining that you had plans with a friend soon. You feel a twinge of panic as you notice him raise an eyebrow and quickly go on to explain that you were helping her with a project. He seems satisfied with this answer, giving a simple goodbye before leaving you alone. It was true that you were helping a friend, but what you were embarrassed to admit was that you were helping Erika with the sewing for a cosplay she was making. 

Usually you wouldn't be shameful about doing simple seamstress work, but after Erika explained exactly what a cosplay was, you felt like it wasn't something you would really parade through the streets about. Texting Erika that you were on your way, you put the address she had sent you into your GPS.

"Woah, I never guessed that the mean and scary Shizuo would get a girlfriend! I guess there's love out there for everyone, right Kururi...?"

"Very romantic..."

The sound of new voices surprises you, and when you try to find the source of the voices, you find it a lot closer to you than you expect. Two young girls, no older than 14 or 15 stood at most 2 feet before you. They appear to be twins, bearing matching eyes and hair colors and dressed to adorably compliment each other. Your eyes light up at their cute little hoodies and skirts, each hood shaped with different animal ears. The girl in the yellow hoodie shrieks, holding her arms in an 'X' in front of her face in an attempt to shield herself.

"We've been spotted!! We were so stealthy, how could we have been caught!?"

"Blew our cover."

You find yourself smiling at them in amusement. They were so cute! However, you were concerned as to why they were out by themselves like this, and why they were following a stranger down the street. "I'm sorry, can I help you both...?"

"Help us meet Yuuhei!" Your eyes widened as both of the girls seem to swarm you, tugging at the maxi skirt you wore. "Yuuhei...?"

"C'mon, you're sleeping with his brother so you have to have met him!" You're shocked by the bespectacled girl's accusation. An intense burn immediately overtakes your face.

"I-I'm not... _sleeping_ with anyone's brother." You remember the earlier mention of Shizuo's name in horror, "I'm not in a relationship with anyone."

"Liar." Any hope you had that the girl in the green hoodie was any more polite than her counterpart was out the window. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration.

"I'm telling the truth. I've only known Shizuo for a couple of days. I'm sure he's a great guy, but I'm not that kind of girl."

"So you're saying that you _would_ sleep with him!" Aaaand the burning is back.

" _Wha-_!! You are awfully vulgar for a middle schooler!!" The girl in the yellow hoodie bursts out into childish laughter and the smile she shoots you seems oddly familiar. She grabs her sister's hand and sprints past you, the latter barely struggling to keep up. After reaching a considerable distance, they turn back to you, waving goodbye.

"Let us know when you get lucky, we'll happily wait if it means getting to meet Yuuhei!!" With that, they intertwine hands again and run off. Flustered, you frantically check your surroundings in hopes that no one heard the young girl's crude outbursts. Goodness, kids were getting more and more mature these days, weren't they? Shaking off the odd interaction, you continued on your trip, now worried about being late to Erika's.

* * *

So Erika's expectations for how she wanted the costume to look were a little particular, but you were able to work it all out. Working together, the two of you made quick progress. You were very impressed by this secret skill of Erika's, and you made sure that you told her so.

"Thanks! You get pretty good at it after a while." A glimmer in the corner of your eye catches your attention, and you realize it's a necklace that Erika is clasping around the neck of the mannequin. You're sure that you practically have hearts in your eyes as you inspect it closely. "Holy _COW,_ that is absolutely _gorgeous_!! Where on earth did you find that??" 

Erika smiles and shrugs nonchalantly. "Can't really buy it anywhere where it's not just cheaply made plastic, it's unique to the character. I made it." At this point, you've completely lost your chill, grasping her hands in excitement and raving on and on about the mastery and professional level of her work. Erika doesn't seem to mind, but the flush on her face causes you to snap out of your stupor, releasing her hands and apologizing.

You two spend the rest of the evening putting finishing touches on the costume. As the conversation falls into a pleasant silence, your mind begins to drift to other matters. You wondered if, in such a private setting, it would be okay to ask Erika about this Izaya guy. The van gang's distaste for him was clear, but maybe she would be willing to explain some things to you--as a friend. "Hey, Erika?" She hums in acknowledgement, not looking up from her work. "Can you tell me about this Izaya Orihara?"

"What do you wanna know?" You're relieved that she remains unfazed, still focusing on detailing.

"Well, it's just like--a _lot_ of people seem to dislike him. I mean, I'm pretty sure Shizuo was like, trying to deeply injure him. It makes me wonder what exactly he did." For the first time, Erika takes a break. Her stare travels up to the ceiling as she rubs her own chin in thought. Did she really have to think about it?

"Besides the fact that he's basically not a nice person...the guy has this huge god complex. He works as an informant, so he has a bunch of dirt on everyone and that gives him some sort of power over people, I guess." Wow.

"Is that why Shizuo dislikes him so much? Because he has dirt on him?" What kind of dirty secret could someone that the entire city knows about have?

"Hmm, nah. Dotachin says they've been at each other's throats since high school. Sounds like they've had bad blood since the moment they met. But if you ask me," her eyes light up, "I think it's all a big display for their intense, long-lived love for one another!"

"Um, ya don't say..." you answer nervously, hesitant to snap her out of what ever high she was experiencing in front of you. Suddenly, you hear a knock at the door. Glancing at Erika inquisitively, you ask her if she's expecting anyone. Not answering, she stands up and bounds excitedly to the door. Whoever she lets in is silent upon entry. "I figured that we should test this baby out on a model!" she calls from the other room. She returns with a special guest in close pursuit.

"Anri!' you exclaim happily, approaching the girl. You give her a warm hug, which she awkwardly receives. While you're a little put off by her passiveness, you brush it off as her not being used to such contact. Erika smiles at the heartfelt(at least on your part) reunion. "I remembered that you guys knew each other, so I thought that a ladies night was in order!" You had to admit that your visit so far had been a total sausage festival. It would be nice to hang out with some cool girls! 

The three of you start the night by having Anri model the costume. However, once you two show it to her for the first time, you can tell she's apprehensive. She tries to be polite, insisting that there was nothing wrong with it, but you notice how her eyes keep shifting to the bust of the ensemble. Working on the mannequin, you hadn't noticed how deep the V-line of the costume was, but on someone like Anri, it would certainly fit a little differently.

"Are you uncomfortable with the bust, Anri?" Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"O-Oh, w-well, I um...It's just that mannequin's body type is a little different from mine...I don't know if it will fit right..."

"Oh, don't worry about that, Anri! We put together this cosplay with your exact body type in mind! It may look smaller on the mannequin, but it's a very stretchy material." The way that Anri's flush deepened revealed how much that didn't help. Poor girl, you wondered how much harassment she must have dealt with to want to cover up so much. You ask Erika to show you a picture of the character that the cosplay was supposed to be of. As you look at the character on her phone, the two things you notice are the accuracy of the design--including the deep neckline--and the character's oddly purple skin. Closely examining the picture, you start to have an idea.

"Erika, do you mind showing me where you keep your fabrics?" Erika is obviously confused, but nods, pulling out a drawer from her dresser to reveal an array of different patterns and materials. Spotting exactly what you were looking for, you grab the roll of fabric and smile at your model. "The ensemble isn't quite done yet. Sit tight, Anri."

You're thankful to Erika for allowing you to make such a change to the outfit. She agreed that one of the key parts of cosplaying was wearing something that you were comfortable and confident in. It wasn't too different from typical fashion, you supposed. Anri sits on the bed patiently, content to watch the two of you continue to work on the mannequin. As you make more progress, she seems to realize what it is that you're doing to change it and smiles. It's a minor change, so it doesn't take entirely too long. 

"Come out whenever you're ready!!" Erika says, handing Anri the costume on a hanger as the young girl enters the bathroom. "Let us know if you need help," you add. After the door closes, you and Erika exchanged proud glances. It was like you both were the cool women on those reality tv shows where they gave the homely young girl a makeover. Although, Anri was completely fine before, and she might actually be better off going in public as the before picture than the after. 

"I think I'm ready..." Anri says before opening the door. You and Erika lose your minds at the sight of her.

"SO CUTE!!" you both yell, most definitely scaring the devil out of the poor girl. Unfortunately, it would be a bit of a while before you both calmed down. You gently ushered her over to a full body mirror so she could see herself.

"Look at how gorgeous you look, Anri!" you beam, picking up Erika's handmade necklace and clasping it around her neck, "Erika made this herself, can you believe it? Isn't it pretty?" You secretly gauge Anri's face for a reaction. After all, it was important that she herself felt good in it. She gives herself a once-over and to your utmost delight, smiles at herself. The deep neckline that she had previously worried about had been filled with a translucent swatch of purple fabric, meant to imitate the character's skin. There was a bit of transparency to it, but it was still thick enough to cover. Paired with the purple jewels of Erika's necklace, it made for a beautiful match.

Erika, having procured a camera out of nowhere, snapped numerous pictures of the girl. Surprisingly, Anri didn't seem too phased by it, smiling bashfully and letting her take as many photos as she wanted. It was satisfying, seeing her blossom like this in a silly costume. She deserved that kind of confidence, definitely. At Erika's offer to let her keep the outfit, however, she politely declined. Not much of a Halloween person, you guessed. 

* * *

It had gotten so late into the night, Erika suggested that the two of you just sleep over. After cutting on a copy of _My Neighbor Totoro_ (complete with english subtitles for your own sleep-deprived convenience), you and Anri slipped on some of Erika's old clothes and collapsed onto an air mattress beside her bed. You wonder how often Erika's been pranked at slumber parties, because she's out like a light before the title credits are over. You and Anri are still wide awake, however, quietly watching the adorable movie. "I'm just glad she didn't put on one of those weird shows she goes on about. What does she call them? Yow-ee??" you jest. Anri actually giggles and you're very proud of yourself. 

"...Looks like we got that sleepover you were talking about," she says. So she remembered that. When you look at her, you see that she's smiling and you happily return the gesture. "Well, it won't be the last! I imagine being friends with boys is a little different, huh?" 

"Oh, definitely. Mikado and Masaomi are fun, but...they can still be kind of..."  
"Stupid? Immature? Prideful? Stupid?"  
"You said stupid twice."  
"So you agree that they're stupid."

You both laugh, but a sleepy groan from Erika quickly shuts the two of you up. "...I've never been to one of these before," Anri whispers thoughtfully. The sad smile on her face makes you feel sorry for the girl. "I never really had many friends growing up. Mikado and Masaomi are the first real friends I've had in a while." You wonder what she meant by "real friends." Perhaps there had been others that have gotten close to her and used her. You shake your head in disappointment at the thought.

"Wanna hear a secret?" The pure curiosity on her face is adorable, "I've never been to one either." Her eyes widen to the size of saucers. Without her glasses, you're able to notice the red tint in her brown eyes, even in the darkness.  
"R-Really? But you're so... I'd think you'd be really popular."  
"Hm?? What makes you say that?" you laugh.

Anri looks away, too guilty to answer. She couldn't admit it, the way that looking at you reminded her of all the girls who had bullied her growing up. Those rude girls who had all that money to buy the nicest clothes, and always had so many friends for no reason. It was terrible how she made that assumption about you, who reached out to her the moment that the two of you had met. 

"Well, it's true. I've never been to a sleepover, or had friends, for that matter. If I did, I don't remember." Anri looks at you expectantly, silently willing you to continue. It was endearing, how a girl so polite could be so obvious about her interest in someone's personal life. You could trust her, it felt like, not to judge you for unveiling such a major part of your past. So you told her....

...how a year ago, you were in a terrible accident; one that completely compromised your memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the lack of ladies in this was criminal, u think this is supposed to be hetero land??? absolutely not (the twins and anri are just lil sisters tho bc they're baby)  
> -also, i dont actually think this way about cosplays, reader is just ignorant :'(((((


	6. Her Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mysterious vibes - blackbyrds
> 
> "after all the things were said  
> the mystery has gone from my head  
> i thought that i had worked it out  
> now i know what love is about,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first part isn't underlined but is entirely in english

_.....lia......_

_...m....ly........_

_..n..c..a......._

_.......(Y/N)!_

_**"(Y/N)!"**_

_Your vision returns in waves, spotting in and out like a photo being set aflame. The first sensation to reach your consciousness is the thin layer of paper covering your body. It does little to soothe the shivers racking your body, yet you still felt so so_ **_hot_ ** _. A face begins to form in front of you. It's so blurry, but you begin to make out the sharp frames of glasses. Sickly pale, almost translucent skin. Thin, shoulder-length hair with scruffy facial hair to match. This was the face of.... the face of..._

_"I'm so glad you're alright, honey."_

_Honey...? Who was honey? Was that you? Your name...?_

_You pull yourself up into a sitting position, taking in how your bones seemed to creak with each movement. A pulse swells in your temple at the sudden exposure to a bright light and you hiss. "Where am I? W-who are you?"_

_Vision still blurry, the person beside you isn't completely clear. A look of surprise melts into an affectionate smile. You feel a hand caress your the side of your damp forehead, fingers dry and cracked and calloused. "It's me, sweetheart. It's your father, you're at home. Darling, **you were hurt very badly.** "_

* * *

"It's odd...out of everything that I could have remembered, I _do_ remember getting hit by that car," you reflect, now lost in the memory, "Anyway, Father took extra special care to restore me as much as he could. I met with all sorts of special teachers over video call and he made sure that I read tons of books and watch a lot of TV. I was so busy all of the time that I never really had time to go out and interact with other teenagers. It doesn't completely fill the gap, but eventually it started to feel like I had never lost my memory in the first place!"

You couldn't even imagine the pain that your father was going through. It must have been hard enough as it is as a single father, raising an adopted daughter. With you suffering from amnesia on top of that, he must have garnered so much judgement from onlookers. But he persevered, and raised you back to health in the most intelligent way possible. He gave you a second--no, third chance at life and you owed him the entire world for that.

"I'm really sorry that you had to go through that." Anri's voice pulls you from a trance you hadn't realized you were in.

"Oh, don't worry about me. I'm doing great now. And hey, the best thing to come out of all of this? All of those magazines that Father had me read are how I got into fashion! Well, apparently I always loved fashion--but they helped me get my skills back!" You hadn't meant to drown the girl's spirits in your tragic backstory. It had felt good to get off of your chest and it seemed that it didn't change her opinion of you. "So, Erika and I may be some of your first friends, Anri, but technically, you two are some of mine! Instead of worrying about the past, let's make as many memories as we can right now. Deal?"

Anri stares at the hand you offer her, stunned by your spontaneous life lesson. Shaking it off with a smile, she accepts the handshake, smiling with the most determination you had ever seen her muster. "Deal."

* * *

As the two of you left Erika's apartment, you can't help be feel like you're both taking a walk of shame, donning the same clothes you wore when you had arrived last night. Anri's home actually turns out to be on the way to yours, so you drop her off before heading home. The first order of business was a shower, a cozier set of PJs, and perhaps a couple more hours of sleep. Erika's air mattress was alright, but you would die if you didn't get some time wrapped up in your own sheets as well.

You're proud to say that you only slept an additional 2 hours, and you still had 8 hours until sundown. Maybe you had a bit of a sleep cycle issue. You grab your phone from the night stand, ready for your routine morning-scroll. However, you notice that you have a notification. Opening the bubble, you realize that it was three messages from the same number. 

It hadn't been saved yet, you noticed, and there was no history of previous calls or messages. Your skepticism rised at the sight of three internet links. What if it was some sort of virus? You opened up a search engine and looked up the title of the first link: SubaGen. The top result was for an app, one that you could download onto your phone or laptop.

_Instant text translator; Type your messages in your language and watch as everyone instantly understands you!  
_

Wow, this seems really useful! You wish you had found something like this sooner. Even with your education, your typing speed during text conversations with your friends still needed quite a bit of work. It seemed that this app would help you type must faster! After confirming that the app itself was not, in fact, a virus, you downloaded it onto your phone and made a mental note to download it onto your laptop as well. 

You were now a bit more trusting of the unknown number now, wondering if they were some sort of advertisement robot that had randomly typed your number. The second link has no obvious title amongst the stream of numbers and letters. However, it still had the format of a typical url, and clicking on it opened up your phone's internet browser.

It took you to a page with a simple black background. There's no title anywhere on the screen, just a white typing bar labeled "Screen Name", and a scrolling option menu full of different colored squares and fun-shaped avatars. Was this some type of forum? You randomly pick a purple square and one of the avatars with a cute pair of angel wings on it. After typing in a screen name, you hit the "Enter" button and watch as you're taken to another black screen. At the very bottom reads a simple white text.

 _**Sora** _ _has entered the chat._

The screen is not empty for long, however, as an orange icon and speech bubble pop up, followed by blue, followed by black.

 **_Kanra:_ ** _Hey, hey, HEY!! Who is this!?  
_ **_Taro Tanaka:_ ** _Sora...?_ **_  
Setton:_ ** _It's been a while since we've had someone new._

The text is in english, you notice, and you wonder if these people are speaking it, or if that app you had downloaded was working its magic. No new messages appear for a moment and you realize that they're waiting for you to say something. 

**_Sora:_ ** _Hello!  
 **Sora:** I'm not intruding, am I?_  
 _**Setton:** _ _Don't worry about it. You had the link, so I guess you were meant to be here  
 **Kanra:** Yeah, who did send him the link!? ΣΣ(ﾟДﾟ;)  
_

'Him'? That's funny, they seemed to think that you were a boy. You decide to go along with it, thinking that maintaining a persona would be fun.

_**Taro Tanaka:** So Sora, the three of us happen to be in Ikebukuro. Any chance you'd be around that area?  
 **Sora:** Yes, I am! What an odd agreement!  
 **Sora:** Coincidence, I mean.  
 **Setton:** Looks like you got the writing mixed up, haha. Happens to me sometimes too.  
 **Kanra:** Still, seems like a rookie mistake that a foreigner would make!  
 **Kanra:** You wouldn't happen to be a foreigner, would you? (ʘᗩʘ’)  
_

Well, shoot, so much for the persona. This darn app had gone a blown your cover for you! Guess it wasn't always 100% accurate. A small window pops up on your screen, drawing your attention. The black speech bubble alerts you that it's Setton.

_**Setton:** Kanra's always like this. Hope she doesn't scare you off. Not that I'm assuming that you are, but I'm actually a foreigner myself, so no judgement here. :) **  
Sora:** That actually means a lot, thanks!_

_**Sora:** Nope, just a typo. Just woke up from a nap.  
 **Kanra:** A nap, huh? Must be in a reaaal peaceful part of Ikebukuro, then!  
 **Kanra:** Speaking of peaceful, have you all heard?  
 **Kanra:** There was a gang war today!  
 **Taro Tanaka:** What!?  
 **Setton:** Really!?  
 **Kanra:** Yup, at least, that depends...  
 **Kanra:** On whether or not Shizuo Heiwajima is really in the Dollars.  
_

There goes his name again. You would have been surprised by the revelation, but it's not hard to believe that Shizuo had gotten into another battle of some sorts. However, the idea that the man was in a _gang_?? That was ridiculous! Kanra explained how members of the "Yellow Scarves" (Another gang? That name was kinda cheesy) had picked a fight with Shizuo, believing that taking him down would give them some sort of leverage against the Dollars. Shaking your head, you interrupt Kanra's spiel.

 **_Sora:_ ** _No way Shizuo would be part of something as petty as a color gang.  
 **Kanra:** Hmm??? Defending his honor are we?? (・о・)  
 **Taro Tanaka:**_ _Sora, do you know Shizuo??_

YOU WERE SO BAD AT THIS. God, now you know that if given the chance, fleeing the country and changing your identity was _not_ a good option.

 _**Sora:** _ _Of course not! I just don't see why someone so strong would need the protection of a gang!  
 **Kanra:** Maybe with a normal scrappy color gang, but with the dollars it'd be different.  
 **Setton:** What do you mean, Kanra?  
 **Kanra:** I mean, the Dollars aren't all about showing off muscle and starting fights. They've been linked to a lot of acts of heroism around Ikebukuro! Sure, there are probably a few strays, but it's clear what the Dollars are really about!  
 **Taro Tanaka:** You really think that, Kanra?  
 **Kanra:** But even then, they must have done something to really piss off the Yellow Scarves to make them try and target Shizuo Heiwajima!  
_

The way that she said his name irked you, as if he was some sort of urban legend and not a real life person. You avoided jumping to his defense again in fear of blowing your cover.

You spent hours chatting with your new friends. Kanra was a bit of a big mouth and a gossip, but you felt as though you were learning more from her now than you had since you first got to Ikebukuro. Sure, the van gang hinted you about the gang wars and slashings, but Kanra explained them in great detail. How color gangs were making a resurgence about the city. How there was an urban legend about a headless rider that many were recently starting to claim were true. When she described the rider, you couldn't help but picture the mysterious woman you had recently met.

Setton and Taro, probably having heard all of this many times before, made their leave, kindly giving their goodbyes and nice to meet you's before leaving the chat.

 _**Kanra:** _ _Honestly, Sora, it's hard to believe that you didn't know about all of this!  
 **Sora:** I don't get out much. Can I ask you one more thing?  
 **Kanra:** ఠ_ఠ  
 **Sora:** Can you tell me about Izaya Orihara??  
_

You were a curious sort...almost nosy, you admit it. Even after Erika's plain explanation, the man's name still lingered on your mind. He was a jerk, right. He had dirt on everyone, true. Nobody liked him, okay. Still, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something about him. An itching to learn everything that you possibly could. It was all of those detective shows you were watching.

_**Kanra:** Hmmm, not really! Maybe you should just meet him yourself!_

**_Kanra_ ** _has left the chat._

Well, goodbye, you guess. You sigh, letting your phone drop onto the bed and rubbing your now bleary eyes. That much screen time was most definitely not good for you. With how late it's gotten, you treat yourself to another good ole in. After ordering some delivery, you extract yourself from your bed and migrate to the couch in the entertainment space. As you're scrolling through different movie options, you suddenly remember the third message that the unknown number had sent you.

It seemed that the source was trustworthy. Afterall, it had led you to a really useful app, as well as a way to communicate with new people that were also in the area. Maybe the third link would yield equally pleasant results. As you scroll back to the message, you notice that right under the link is the word "baccano". Maybe another weirdly specific app? 

The link took you to yet another black page. However, what was most striking was the white symbol that overtook most of the screen. A large circle with the word _DOLLARS_ on it, written in small multicolored dots. The name instantly stood out to you, identical to that of the gang that Kanra had been talking about. You stare at the page, battling the inner conflict rising within you. You would admit; the app was useful and the chatroom was fun, but what could you possibly want to do with a gang? Granted, it wasn't any old sort of gang if what Kanra said was true. It was a "good" gang.

Besides, the website seemed to be password protected! No way you could have anything to do with it, how could you ever get the password...??  
...

You relent, typing in the one word that might work.

_baccano_

The bar disappears, replaced by a spinning, dotted circle. Then...

_**W e l c o m e .** _

Looks like you're doing this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive been thinking--i read this timeline where it lays out all of the events of durarara in order in terms of the light novel (which i think is slightly diff. from the anime??) and there's like a several month period (like May through fuckin DECEMBER) between the whole namie vs. dollars thing (right before she works for izaya) and right before the big yellow scarves fight--this is that period i have decided (but might also change my mind hahahaha)  
> (the way that all this shit was supposed to start in 2004)


	7. Concert Bootlegs and Domestic Arguments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> goodie bag - still woozy
> 
> "but when she made me laugh  
> doom doom right to my tomb  
> i love that it's not hard to be in a place where laughing's easy,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay but the EPITOME of underrated???? this guy

Over the past couple of weeks, you had gotten pretty close to the van gang. While it seemed like Kyohei was the only one with his head screwed on properly, they were all surprisingly wise in their own special ways. You're sure that without them by your side, you would not have adjusted to new life in Ikebukuro nearly as easily. That being said, you had to admit that you may have gotten closer to some than others. Erika, as one of your few female friends, was easiest to get close to. Kyohei was open to you from the moment that the two of you met, and was kind enough to engage in conversation with you whenever Walker and Erika were off on another one of their tirades. Even Walker, who often sat next to you when you were stuffed into the back of the van together, had familiarized himself with you. 

Not nearly as much could be said for the driver of said van. Saburo was talkative enough during your group hangouts, sure, but you hadn't gotten any one on one time with him at all. This was all that you could think of as you occupied Kyohei's usual position, sitting at Saburo's left side as he silently drove his beloved van. You had asked the gang about going on one of your usual hangouts, but for what felt like the first time (at least since you had met them), everyone had work. They all had such niche professions, Kyohei as a carpenter, Erika as a jewelry maker, and Walker as an ice sculptor, but they were still oddly fitting. You didn't say this because it was so obviously offensive, but you couldn't help but find it just as fitting that Saburo was...er....unemployed.

When Saburo was the only one that didn't claim to have plans, you didn't see any reason not to just hang out with him. He seemed nice enough, you were sure you guys would get along fine in no time. However, the moment you opened the van door to meet his sharp silent gaze and he greeted you with a simple nod, you worried that there were going to be problems. As you enjoyed(?) the painfully silent ride, you realized that the two of you hadn't even made a decision as to what it was you were going to do. For now, you settled for not so subtly sneaking glances at him. His features were distinct from the other males in his social circle, you noticed. Unlike Kyohei's rugged, masculine features and Walker's boyish, youthful face, Saburo's face was sharp and almost feminine?? but really nice. Framed by the long locks of his hair, you'd call it pretty if he wouldn't be super weirded out by that.

You're foolish to think that just because his eyes are on the road, he wouldn't notice you deconstructing his entire facial structure. His pupils flick over to your direction for a second and of course, you don't look away fast enough for him not to catch you. You force a laugh before he can say anything. "Do you like music? I could really go for some music right now! What kind of music do you like???" He shrugs, tilting his head toward the compartment right in front of you.

"The guys are always talkin', so I don't really have music on that often. Might be a CD in there somewhere."

Taking that as permission, you hesitantly open the glove compartment. It's surprisingly empty, save for a small black book, a thick packet, and a sleeve of CDs. You pick up the sleeve and randomly pull one out, finding the CD slot and pushing it in. It wasn't labeled, but whatever it was, it didn't matter to you, as long as you could listen to _something_. However, whatever you were preparing yourself to hear, it certainly wasn't _this_.

The light, melodic jingle of a girl's voice. It was oddly... _poppy_??? For anything that Saburo would have. "Uh, does Erika keep her stuff in here sometimes?" Saburo quirks an eyebrow in your direction. "No, everything in here is mine." You mutter a quiet 'oh', deciding not to question further. This is the music he liked, huh...? Now that you thought about it, you did remember Walker and Erika teasing him about his apparent obsession with some singer girl. Just how obsessed with her was he?

"It's catchy! I don't think I've heard music like this before," you admit. 

"You think so!?" He's the loudest you've heard him since he started cursing out that guy who almost hit him on the road, with a look in his eyes you've only ever seen on Walker and Erika. You deeply concerned by the fact that his focus is very much _not_ on the road, but you relish in the feeling of seeing him so excited. "You're absolutely right! Nobody makes music like Ruri!"

That's it, Ruri was her name! Ruri Hijiribe, you think. You smile, definitely seeing how starstruck he was. You may have just found a way in. "Yeah, she has a beautiful voice. Any idea where I could listen to more of her music?"

The van skids to a stop. You're barely able to keep yourself from flying into the dashboard, yelping in surprise as you lurch forward. Peeking at one of the sideview mirrors, you notice that he's stopped on the side of the road. When you look back at Saburo you squeal. He's leaning over the middle console, not necessarily invading your personal space, but certainly a lot closer than you'd ever expect him to be.

"Do you mean that?" You have no idea why he sounds so serious, or why he's whispering, for that matter. You do, however, notice for the first time how intense his gaze is, the sharpness of his eyes eliciting feelings from you that you would rather not be feeling right now. 

"Um, y-yeah!" your voice cracks and you hate yourself. "I'm always down for some new music."

Maybe it was because of the unfamiliarity, or the plain fact that he was a man, but you never really expected to visit Saburo's apartment, let alone have it be the first home of a man's you'd ever visited. It was small and...neater than you expected (you needed to be more forgiving in your standards for this guy). However, you had very little time to properly inspect it as Saburo practically dragged you to the couch (no you were not flustered by his grasp on your wrist) and slammed a CD player down on the coffee table in front of you. From one of the drawers on the TV stand, he pulled out another sleeve of CDs.

You were in for a very long night. It wasn't unenjoyable, you admit. Saburo talked you through hours of Ruri Hijiribe's discography. It was astounding to you that a single artist could produce so much music. When you say this to him, he's very obviously pleased. After CD's, you move on to music videos, and from those, you move on to recordings of her live performance. This segment, now with something for you to look at, was much more tolerable. You even began to join Saburo in his wonder, openly commenting on the designs of Ruri Hijiribe's costumes. He seemed to like whenever you had something nice to say, so you didn't bother holding back your comments.

"I just _adore_ that body piece! It's very girly, but the exposed back and navel adds just the right amount of edginess to it. It's very unique for a pop idol."

This interest of Saburo's was very unexpected, but you came to appreciate that about him. You were just happy to have broken away from that awkward silence. Besides, it was pleasant to watch him express such enthusiasm for something as unconventional as pop music. 

"(Y/N)?"

"Hmmm?"

"She's wearing a different costume now, what do you think of this one?" His entire upper body is leaned towards you. His once sharp stare is now owlish and almost childlike, waiting eagerly for your response. It was cute. Very cute.

"Um, I like this one even more than the last one! It definitely suits her hairbow better, and that appears to be her trademark in all of her outfits." The light of the TV screen shines bright onto his face, and the glossiness of his eyes makes it look like he's about to cry.

Oh. Oh he _was_ crying. You panic, awkwardly patting the guy's shaking shoulders. Did he like the other one more!? Upon closer inspection, you realize that he's still smiling. You don't interrupt him, allowing him to shed as many tears as he liked as you reached the end of your Ruri Hijiribe binge watch. The screen goes black on her shimmering face, drawing attention to how much darker the room had gotten. Saburo silently rises from the couch, leaving the room. You snicker at the sound of running water and someone blowing their nose.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, " he says coolly as he returns. You shake your head, smiling and assuring him that it was fine. "I enjoyed myself. You seem to know your stuff about this girl."

"Of course I do. As one of the vice presidents of Ruri Hijiribe fan club, it'd be shameful if I didn't know what I was talking about." You want to laugh so bad. God, you shouldn't--it would hurt his feelings so much--but it's so tempting.

"Wow! She sure is lucky to have gained such a dutiful following." After the binge of all of her music, performances, and videos, you feel like you were technically now a part of said following. You notice how his chest puffs out, obviously bolstered by the validation. 

Without the pop idol to focus on, the two of you were forced to come up with more points of conversation. However, there is significantly less tension (you _did_ just watch him cry his eyes out) with only the occasional awkward break. Because of all of your group hangouts, a lot had already been revealed about you, so you tried to focus on learning more about him. You ask how life was growing up, how he met the van gang, how he had gotten into Ruri Hijiribe's music. Thankfully, he didn't seem put off by the focus on himself. 

He was... the scrappy sort. The first encounter he had with Kyohei was when he challenged him in a fight (apparently Kyohei had been quite the delinquent himself--you snicker at the thought). However, after Kyohei actually saved him after he was attacked by a color gang. Later down the road, Walker and Erika joined the fray, and they've been together ever since. They even joined a gang called the Blue Squares together, but they're not in it anymore. You stare at him, wide-eyed with wonder. 

"Erm, (Y/N)? You good? Sorry, guess it is kinda boring." 

"No, you're so cool, Saburo!" His past was so... badass! It was like straight out of those action movies you always watched. You could practically see it, a wounded, bleeding Saburo back to back with a bruised but steady Kyohei, fending off an evil group of delinquents. They're briefly overwhelmed, but just at the last moment, they snatch victories from the jaws of defeat--kicking the delinquents to the curb and walking away with just a few scratches and a beautiful friendship.

"Geez, you sound like Erika with your weird fantasies." Oh wow, you were thinking out loud. A chime rings from Saburo's cellphone. Just as he checks to see what it was, there's a knock at the door.

"Hey, Togusachiiii! We saw your van outside, we know that you're home!" You'd recognize the voice of Erika anywhere. You chuckle at the girl's exuberance and smile at your friend. 

"Looks like they got out early!"

* * *

"Saburo told me you were quite the ruffian back in the day."

Kyohei huffed from beside you, shaking his head in amusement. The guy was kind enough to walk you home after the five of you enjoyed a lovely takeout dinner at Saburo's apartment. After noticing the stack of Ruri Hijiribe memorabilia on his coffee table, Kyohei shot you an apologetic glance. You shake it off with a smile, however, assuring him that you've enjoyed the past couple hours with the superfan. 

"You could say something like that. I don't want you to think that I was some sort of bully or anything, but trouble always seemed to follow me, even when I didn't want it to." That made sense. The idea of Kyohei in a school uniform, donning a pompadour and swinging a bat at anyone who dared to look at him the wrong way was hard to believe (Wow, Erika and Walker had showed you too much manga). "That's right! You went to the same school as Shizuo and Izaya, didn't you?" you ask. His brow furrows, most likely at the taxing memory. "Yeah. You'd think that with those guys causing all kinds of trouble there wouldn't be any room for anything else. Fights kept happening, gangs kept rising."

"Gangs sure are a big thing here! The whole color coding thing is so odd...Yellow Scarves, Purple Gambles, Blue Squares. For people so rebellious, they sure do fall in line."

"Yeah, I guess. But those guys are all about showing off, and having a color makes it easy to show that."

"That's true. That's what makes the Dollars so different, huh?"

You're a couple more steps ahead before you realize that Kyohei's not walking with you anymore. He's not necessarily glaring at you, but there's a fire in his eyes that pins you to the floor. "Something wrong?" you gulped. Was it in poor taste, what you said? Perhaps it was a sore subject to him. He seems to snap out of whatever state that he's in, shaking his head with vigor. "No, sorry. Just...didn't expect you to be that interested in all this stuff," he admits. However, he doesn't keep walking, just stands in place, gaze flitting to the side. "W-Well, it _is_ happening all around us, isn't it? I can't help but notice the tensions that have been rising...between--."

"Does it matter to you all that much? I mean, this situation is sort of beneath you, dontcha think?"

There's no hostility in his voice. It's quite the opposite; delicate and advisory. It was almost patronizing, to be honest, and it irked you. It's as if you weren't a young woman, how naiive did he think you were? You sigh through your nose, hands parking themselves on your hips. "Beneath me? You might be saying that to be nice, but I'm certainly not _too good_ for anything. Y'know, I could be a lot more involved in all of this than you'd think." 

Despite your increasingly bratty tone, he's still patient and calm (and you hate yourself for admiring that about him). "So could I; and I'll be the first to tell you, it's not all its made out to be. It's dangerous. It's _unfair._ You don't deserve to get caught up in that." His serenity is working on your nerves. It's annoying, how he was so obviously underestimating you, but something else was distracting you; something that was keeping you from getting too angry. "You care about me," you realize. Even from under the shadow of his beanie, you notice how his eyes widen. His flustered silence is so endearing that you can't help but grin. 

"You do!! You're trying to protect me," you laugh, before composing yourself for his sake,"I understand what you're saying, Kyohei, and I _know_. I'm not made of glass, and I'm definitely not a fool. You can trust me, kay?" He's having an internal battle right now, you can tell. One side seems to give way and he continues to stroll, returning to your side.

"Well, _I_ can't tell you what to do."

You happily continue your walk home, glad that you had won the little debate.

"Guess it's just another way you'll be joining the rest of us."

Wait, _what?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruh, in the light novels there was another van gang member named shimada??? wonder how it would've been if he was in the anime  
> the drrr wiki calls kyohei's hat fuckin DO RAG and i REFUSE AHAKADAJADJAKD


	8. Love and Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o my heart - mother mother
> 
> "and i pour my heart a new foundation  
>  but it don't set hard, it just stays shaking  
>  and i scratch my name, i scratch my name in  
>  but it don't set hard, it gets mixed back in,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruh they took the other seasons of drrr off of netflix im big angry >:((((((

Anri was never very quick to answer your texts. You didn't hold it against her, assuming that she was just the type of person that didn't check her phone very often. Right now, though, you wished she had checked it all the time, took less than a minute to respond. As your vision of the phone screen blurs, you realize that your hands are trembling. _For the love of god, please answer, Anri!!_

 **_Kanra:_ ** _Did you guys hear? Rumor has it, some first years at Raira were attacked by the slasher!_

You and Setton both left hastily before Kanra could explain more. The pounding of your heart could practically be heard in your ears as you quickly texted your younger friend. Was she okay?? Were the boys okay?? The girl had yet to get back to you and every minute that passed was excruciating. After a while, you decided that calling could be better. Pressing the phone to your ear, you chewed your lip anxiously. It rang...and rang.... and rang.... and rang...

 _"Hello?"_ You could cry. 

"Anri!! I'm so glad that you're okay!! I just heard about the slashing that happened and I got so worried about you and the boys! None of you were involved, were you? No one got hurt?"

There's a brief silence and your heart drops. _"...Masaomi and Mikado are fine, they had nothing to do with it. I'm fine too, I promise...but I was there during the attack."_

"What!? Where are you right now??" You try to keep your voice level to avoid stressing her out further, but it takes a lot of effort.

"I'm at the police station. Mikado and Masaomi are about to walk me home."

That was good, there was someone there to comfort her. You sigh, happy to have at least slightly calmed your nerves. "Okay, well I'd hate to get you worked up after all of that. Hope you get home alright, and sleep well!" You wish you could see her right now. Hopefully, surrounded by her friends, she could smile and find it in herself to recover. "Oh, and Anri?"

_"Hm?"_

"Wait for me the next time school let's out, okay? I'm going to walk you home."

* * *

"E-Excuse me, miss!!"

A tall, disheveled man with kind eyes stands before you. He's almost apologetic, as if he had to muster up the courage to approach you. "Yes, can I help you?" You were currently out running errands. Part of the independent life also came with the maintenance of your entire apartment. A lightbulb needed to be replaced, you needed a new filter for your air conditioning, and you accidentally broke one of the vases holding your favorite houseplant. Amidst all the chaos, the domestic task was definitely therapeutic. However, you guess that a day can't go by where something interesting doesn't happen. "Would you happen to be (Y/N) Brigall?"

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers. Who was this man--a stalker? Was he here to hurt you? You were in broad daylight, surrounded by people. Surely no one would be foolish enough to try such a thing! "I-I'm sorry... have we met? How do you know me?" you ask, carefully inching away from the man. He seems to panic at this, holding up his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Please don't be alarmed! It was a guess, I was searching for a young, fashionably-dressed foreign woman." He reads this from a notepad he had pulled from the pocket of his trench coat. "Embarrassingly enough, it did take me a couple of tries to find you, but I'm so glad I did!"

To your relief, he explains that he is Shuuji Niekawa, a reporter for a tabloid called _Tokyo Warrior._ So he was in journalism, how exciting!! He gains more confidence from your positive response. It was most certainly the kindest response he had gotten to that introduction. Maybe he should have turned to more women after-all. "I'm working on a new column and I am on the hunt for the strongest guy-- er, person in Ikebukuro and I was wondering if you'd be open to helping me out?" You light up at the idea of being in a magazine. Granted, _Tokyo Disaster_ may be different from all of the fashion tabloids you read, but it was something!

"Hm, who do _I_ think is the strongest person in Ikebukuro? Well, I'm sure you've heard over and over about Shizuo Heiwajima, but I know this one guy, he's super underrated! His name is Ky--!"

"Oh, no! Sorry, maybe I wasn't clear enough." He stops you. You quirk an eyebrow at him in confusion. How else were you supposed to help? "I wanted to hear from you as a candidate! As the woman who won in a fight with _the_ Shizuo Heiwajima!" What?? Sorry, what did you do?? You don't realize that you've burst into laughter, garnering the attention of many passerby. Regaining your composure, you apologize to the man.

"Sorry--Mr. Niekawa? It seems that we've been caught up in a bit of a misunderstanding."

"What? No, it can't be! I have several eyewitness accounts of you taking a direct hit from Shizuo Heiwajima and coming out victorious!"

"See, that's not true-- I had to see a doctor afterwards! I didn't even land a hit on the guy, how does that count as winning a fight?" The man's face drops, his kind eyes now pleading. It breaks your heart, how desperate he seems.

"W-well, if these people seemed to think so, then anyone reading the column would think so! Not everything in every column is completely true. Please, give me _something_."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not comfortable lying to so many people. I wish you the best with finishing your column!" You speed away from him, avoiding his disappointed gaze. That poor guy, he must really need this column to work out. You had meant it, hopefully he gets the best interview in the world and the column becomes world famous.

Now, you had a houseplant to find!

* * *

The guilt of snubbing that guy from earlier was still getting to you. Maybe if you could help him in another way, you'd feel better!

 **_Sora:_ ** _Have you guys heard of this tabloid called Tokyo Warrior_ _?  
**Taro Tanaka:** That action magazine? Are you into that kind of thing, Sora?  
**Setton:** I think I've heard of what you're talking about, Sora.  
**Sora:** I haven't exactly read it before, but I've heard there's a new column coming out!  
**Sora:** "The Strongest Man in Ikebukuro." Sounds cool, doesn't it? I'll definitely be giving it a look when it comes out!  
**Kanra:** I dunno if you'll ever get to, Sora.  
**Sora:** What? What do you mean?   
**Kanra:** Haven't you guys heard? The Slasher took its next victim!  
**Kanra:** Shuuji Niekawa--a reporter for that magazine.  
**Kanra:** Wasn't he the one writing that column??  
_

It feels as though your heart is in your throat. The feeling that overcomes you is hard to describe, but nausea wouldn't be far off. Your fingers are frozen, unable to type any of the questions swirling around in your head. Luckily, Setton expresses your exact thoughts.

 _**Setton:** _ _Is he okay!?  
**Taro Tanaka:** Setton, do you know him?  
**Setton:** No...  
**Setton:** Now that I've heard his name, I remember that I really like his articles.  
**Taro Tanaka:** Really scary, though.  
**Taro Tanaka:** Sora, are you okay? Sounds like you were a fan.  
_

You wish you could meet Taro. He seemed like such a cool guy, always looking out for others. Setton was the same. Kanra was... a character. If you all planned to meet one day, you guess she'd have to be invited too...

_**Sora:** Yes, no worries!! I just hope that, whoever is behind this, they get caught soon.  
**Setton:** Yeah, I hope the cops catch him._

**_Saika_ ** _has entered the chat._

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. Not this person again. She(?) had joined the chat before, but all she did was spam a bunch of creepy jargon--stuff about 'loving' and 'cutting'. It was very unsettling. You thought that Kanra had blocked her or something.

_**Kanra:** SHE'S BACK!!!! џ(ºДºџ)  
**Saika:** Cut. Today.  
**Kanra:** I'm the one that wants to cut YOU.  
**Saika:** But not yet. Someone strong.  
**Setton:** Saika, how are you?  
**Kanra:** No point talking to it, it won't respond!  
**Saika:** Sure that I have to cut.  
**Taro Tanaka:** This is creepy.  
**Sora:** I might have nightmares about this...  
**Taro Tanaka:** Yeah, with all this cutting talk, maybe SHE'S the Slasher!  
**Kanra:** Not a chance!  
**Saika:** Someone strong.  
**Saika:** Need to love them. It is my goal.  
**Saika:** Yes, my goal to love.  
_

God, what sort of messed up person was behind this? Perhaps it was a bot or some sort of virus. Honestly, nothing real would talk so openly about stuff so ridiculous. It was some sort of comfort to know it was all probably some silly prank. You're pulled from your thoughts by Saika's continued rambling. The appearance of a certain name makes your heart stop.

 _ **Saika:** Shizuo.  
**Setton:** Huh?  
**Sora:** What!?  
**Saika:** Shizuo Heiwajima.  
**Taro Tanaka:** Saika, are you a friend of Shizuo Heiwajima?  
**Saika:** Heiwajima.  
**Saika:** Heiwajima.Heiwajima.Heiwajima.Heiwajima.Heiwajima.Heiwajima.Heiwajima.Heiwajima.Heiwajima.Heiwajima.Heiwajima.Heiwajima.Heiwajima.Heiwajima.  
_ _**Saika:** Shizuo. Shizuo. Shizuo. Shizuo. Shizuo. Shizuo. Shizuo. Shizuo. Shizuo. Shizuo. Shizuo. Shizuo. Shizuo. Shizuo. Shizuo. Shizuo.  
_

Your blood runs cold at the sight of your friend's name over and over. Just by looking at the text, you could see that Saika was in a frenzy, rabid over the idea of Shizuo. Something like that--it couldn't be a bot. It couldn't get any worse.

 _**Saika:** _ _But i need more. More strength.  
**Saika:** Someone strong. Someone Stronger  
**Saika:** (Y/N).  
**Setton:** WHAT!?  
**Taro Tanaka:** How do you know (Y/N)???  
**Saika:** (Y/N) Brigall.  
**Saika:** Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall Brigall   
**Saika:** (Y/N) (Y/N) (Y/N) (Y/N) (Y/N) (Y/N) (Y/N) (Y/N) (Y/N) (Y/N) (Y/N) (Y/N) (Y/N) (Y/N).  
**Saika:** Love Shizuo. Cut (Y/N).  
**Saika:** Mother's wish. Love. Brigall. Cut. Heiwajima. Heiwajima.  
**Saika:** Shizuo. Mother's wish. (Y/N) and I. Shizuo and (Y/N). Love Love Love.  
_

You left the chat, not bothering to say goodbye. A cold sweat overtook your body, drenching you in a matter of seconds. Why...? What had _you_ done? Shizuo had most likely garnered all sorts of enemies, what with his profession, but you...? You had never spited anyone, you thought. Who would want to cut you... to target you like this?? 

That night, you slept with the covers over your head. You put on a funny podcast to fall asleep to in hopes of warding off any nightmares. The last thing you needed was another scare to psyche you out. After all, you need to walk your friends home from school tomorrow. 

* * *

Many would find Masaomi's excessive energy to be annoying, but today, you were especially thankful for the distraction. However, not even that could distract you from how strange Anri was acting. While the girl was always quiet, there was an odd look in her eyes--she was definitely preoccupied. As Masaomi gladly filled the silence, you locked eyes with Mikado. Seemed that he noticed as well. Once the four of you reached a point where it was time to go separate ways, you decided to go with Anri.

"W-wait!" Mikado exclaims just as the two of you prepare to leave, "Maybe I should go with you!" You laugh, assuming that he's worried about Anri. However, you notice his gaze flitting between the both of you, occasionally lingering in your direction. Confused by his attention on you, you smile at him in reassurance.

"Don't be ridiculous. All that walking back and forth would be such a hassle, and it's late! Anri's house is on the way to mine, so this is just easiest. You two should definitely be safe, though." You're already taking Anri's hand and leading her away before the boy can protest anymore. Afterall, it had been a long week for the girl and she needed her rest. 

Once the two of you were at a safe distance you released the girl's hand, walking at a relaxed pace beside her. "You've been quiet, Anri. I mean--you're always quiet, but I can tell something's up. Something on your mind?" Her face flushes lightly at your question. "Oh...sorry to worry you. It's nothing, I promise." It's obviously not nothing. You don't want to pry though, so you let it go. It had been a while since you had walked to Anri's place, so you let her take the lead. However, the walk goes on for way longer than you expected--maybe the walk home from the school was just longer? You don't remember having to pass a police station, though.

"Ladies, it's very late. I would encourage you both to head back home," an officer approaches the two of you, his partner in tow. 

"Thank you, officer. We were just heading home."

The men kindly offered to escort the two of you. Honestly, with recent events, you weren't too opposed to the idea. However, they got a call and had to leave. You wondered if you should just wait at the box and take their offer, but Anri has already continued walking. Well, guess that idea was out of the question. 

"Wonder what that fight was about? Think it was another gang?" You try to make light conversation to ease both your and her nerves. She's entertaining your sad attempts at conversation, giving short, detached answers. Well, she was probably tired. You were just glad to be here to keep her safe. However, as the thought crossed your mind, you couldn't help but wonder: what _would_ you do if something went wrong? You weren't the best fighter and you certainly weren't that strong. The most training you had was all of those self defense videos you had binged on the internet. You reviewed them in your head--what do you do if someone came at you with a sharp weapon?? Control the distance, watch the hands, run if you can--

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. Who could be texting you at this hour? Trying not to be rude, you discreetly check it. You struggle to hold in your own gasp as you read Kyohei's text.

 **KYOHEI** _  
Hey. We just passed you on the road and there's this guy following you. I don't know what he could be trying to do, but it doesn't look good. Be careful._

Zeroing in on the silent night, you can hear it. Another set of footsteps trailing behind you. They were slow, but steady, in a hot pursuit. You apologize to Anri, claiming that it was an important message. 

**ME** _  
Thanks for looking out. If I get my friend to a safe place, anyway you can help me?_

His response is immediate. You could always trust Kyohei to have your back.

 **KYOHEI** _  
_ _Of course. Circling back now._

As you try to collect yourself--you were most likely in danger, but you had to keep it together for your friend's sake--you notice that Anri has stopped walking again. The two of you stood at a crosswalk, a flickering streetlamp serving as the only light. A feeling of panic overtakes you. It takes every bone in your body not to take a look at the surely approaching form behind the two of you. "A-anri, I know it's been a bit of long walk, but I'm sure there's not much longer to go! Let's keep moving," you urge her subtly, gently taking her wrist and attempting to pull her ahead. All you had to do was get her a little further, to the nearest road where the van gang could pull up. However, she didn't move much, instead shaking her head as if recovering from some sort of daze. "What am I doing...?" she mutters, eyes glued to the wall before the two of you.

The sound of heavy footfalls instantly grabs your attention, and Anri's as well. You both turn to see a man, but not just any man. It was the same disheveled man with the kind eyes that you had talked to the day prior. However, his eyes were certainly not kind now. No, now they were shining bright red, empty of any feeling. The other glaring difference about him was that he donned a glittering butcher knife, pointed at the two of you--intent to kill. Anri whimpers from beside you, no doubtedly frozen in her spot. You couldn't say you were much better. Then, you hear it. The sound of burning tires that only one angry driver could make, accompanied by the growing intensity of a white light. You pull Anri back against the wall with you, trying to increase the space between the two of you and the man, who was steadily approaching, eyes shining and knife raised above his head. 

The panicked ringing in your head is almost louder than the collision of body and van. The man goes flying as the van skids to a stop, already doing it's damage. He crashes into a nearby wall, collapsing to the floor and dropping the knife. Anri breathes a sigh of relief at the same time that you do. You wrap an arm around her shoulders, thankful that the two of you were okay. Walker yells at Kyohei from a distance--something about a 'peaceful life'. You internally hope that the man was still alive. Well, as Kyohei said, it was self defense. Still, you couldn't stop the aching in your heart. He had seemed so kind when you were speaking to him.

However, the way he was up now, laughing maniacally, knife swinging in a frenzy, was anything but kind. The van gang scattered away from him, avoiding his blade. Through the space, you see his eyes lock on you and Anri. In a flash, he's speeding towards you with increasing ferocity. Everything you had tried to remember about defense against a knife was not coming in handy now. Maintain a distance? There was a wall behind you! Watch the hands? Oh, you could see them alright, and man were they fast!

"(Y/N)! Run!" It was Kyohei's voice. You turned to Anri, hands on her shoulders as you tried to push the small girl away. If she booked it to the side, he couldn't get both of you. She wouldn't budge, and though you never thought you could get mad at the girl, your frustration was steadily increasing. All she could do was stare at you with wide saucer eyes. "Anri, you have to run!" you finally yell. She shakes her head, lip trembling.

"B-but, (Y/N)...!" Her eyes switch between you and something behind you and you finally notice it. An overwhelming presence behind you, heaving uneven breaths and grunting--and a pressure in your lower back. It was uncomfortable, like someone using a singular finger to poke you uncomfortably hard. You try to see what it was, but all you see are piercing red eyes and a sick, empty smile. It's almost like you're in a movie and someone has pressed pause--how he only stares at you and you are suddenly frozen in place. However, the moment is broken when his smile drops, as if realizing something. Then he snarls at you and the pressure increases. 

The sound of tires, skidding across concrete roads was loud to you ears. This skidding was not anything you had heard before. It was high pitched and weirdly reminded you of a horses whinny. Something dark flies over you, slamming into the man's face and knocking him into the same wall he had hit only moments before. Two figures land in front of you, weirdly enough, both with yellow heads. 

"Sh-Shizuo?? Celty!!" you realize. Shizuo's eyes widen upon seeing you, muttering your name in astonishment. You hear Kyohei mention a 'Headless Rider' and your mind reels with so many thoughts. However, Erika shrieks, signaling that the Slasher--no way this _wasn't_ the slasher--was up again. However, he's not as feral now, standing in place and staring you all down creepily.

"So many loves in one place...you're Shizuo Heiwajima....I've been looking for you...!" He's reeling again, swinging the knife too and fro, but he continues to ramble. "But who do I go for first...? I love you, Shizuo!! So, so, so, so, much!! But Brigall needs love too! Love, love, love Heiwajima! Love (Y/N)!"

You had been on edge all day and it had affected you physically. Trembling, sweating, throat running dry.... but the way he had said _your name_ , how everyone's eyes darted to you--everything stopped, _time_ stopped. It was how Saika talked... so it really had been the Slasher. As Shizuo stood there, cool as a cucumber, it was obvious just how different the two of you were. That thing was after him too, but all he did was smile one of his signature smiles, coolly saunter up to Saburo's van and... rip the door off. You could already hear Saburo's cries.

If getting hit by a van, and then a motorcycle didn't thoroughly incapacitate that man, Shizuo driving him straight into the wall with an entire van door had to. Your entire body winced at the sound of crushed bones. It was no harder than crushing a bug to him. That was one way to stop him, you guess. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> should i put saika/reader in the tags addhakdhkahdka


	9. Red-Eyed Army

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pork soda - glass animals
> 
> "pineapples are in my head  
>  got nobody 'cause i'm brain dead,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> celty is the loml goodbye  
> -  
> for my friends using chrome, i highly recommend getting the InteractiveFics extension which replaces things like (Y/N) and (E/C) with whatever you want it to!!!! i've been trying to limit my use of (Y/N) but it's gonna be a bit unavoidable going forward, so that extension would rly help!

You wanted to be there for Anri right now. Hug her, tell her it was okay, _something_... but you were shaken, yourself. It was one terrifying thing to read it through the protection of a screen--but to see it right in front of you, to watch it lunge at you with the intent to kill--terrified you beyond reason. The voices around you are muffled and unintelligible. All you can do is zero in on Shizuo, the man who had just saved your life. He was saying something, but all that you could do was focus on how relaxed that he was. That man was targeting you both, that much was certain, but he stood there, calm and collected as ever.

"I'm gonna go kill Izaya!" Well, not entirely collected--but you get the point. As he stalks away, you realize that you hadn't thanked him. You would have to, the very next time that you saw him.

"Hey, don't you think that Shizuo is totally in love with Izaya?"

"Absolutely not!" Even in your state, you joined everyone in shooting Erika's statement down immediately.

The feeling of dampness collecting on your skin made you uncomfortably aware of how muggy it was--or maybe it was just all of your nervous sweating. You remove your jean jacket anyways in hopes of getting some air. A gasp sounds behind you and you realize that it's Anri. "Everything okay?" you ask.

"I-It's just that--you're not... your back isn't..." She trails off. Before you could ask more, Celty approaches the two of you. She types out a message to show you both.

 **"I'm sure that the two of you have certainly been through a lot. How about I take you both home?"**

The preferable course of action would be to stay with the Van Gang. You were even considering asking to stay over at Erika's, considering the fact that you really didn't want to sleep alone tonight. However, they had chosen to take custody of your assailant. At this point, you didn't want to be anywhere near the man. Accepting Celty's offer, you say goodbye to your friends.

"You sure you're gonna be alright?" Walker's always been an enthusiastic person, but he's never gotten very physically affectionate with you. However, the feeling of his hand on your back, unconsciously rubbing soothing circles, is very much welcome. The corners of your mouth curl upwards as you reassure them that you were okay. The two of you accompany Celty as she rolls her motorcycle out to a more drivable area. You all walked in silence, the air heavy with dread due to the recent events. 

"...Is it true...that you don't have a head?" Anri's voice cuts through the silence. You're not sure what startles you more, the question itself or the fact that it was the most that she had spoken all day. Celty stopped walking and the two of you followed suit. Staring at Celty's helmet, you found that you couldn't blame Anri. After hearing stories of the headless rider, you couldn't help but have your own conspiracies about whether or not it could be her. Celty, not bothering to type any messages, raised a hand to her helmet. _Was she really going to...?_

The bright yellow of the helmet was truly the only ounce of color about her. Inside, there was nothing but pure darkness. It was mesmerizing, how it looked as though it went on for miles. Ironically, as you stood here, face to face with the most unfathomable thing, you felt no fear for the first time since the night prior. Anri, you noticed, wasn't fazed either, gazing into the darkness with the same expression of wonder. Maybe the two of you were strange to be so enchanted by this, but you both _had_ almost been murdered by a deranged news reporter, so what could be worse than that. 

Celty dropped off Anri before you. You had gotten so used to walking that you were surprised by how quickly you had arrived at your own place. Having to extract yourself from the comfort of sitting, you're reminded just how exhausted you are. "Thank you, Celty...for everything. I really owe you so much right now...including my life." It's odd talking to her as if she hadn't just showed you her headless abyss thing, but how else were you supposed to act.

 **"It's no trouble at all, really. Rest well, you deserve it."** You couldn't describe how much you liked this woman right now. Hopefully, under better circumstances, you could become friends. You could always use more ladies to talk to!! Struck by the idea, you pull out your phone and pull up the "Add Contact" screen, handing it to her. 

"I know this may be strange, but Anri, Erika, and I have get-togethers sometimes. Maybe you'd like to come?" Celty accepts the phone and stares at it (how can she see without a head??). To your relief, she types something in and hands it back to you. She then types on her own device. Your phone vibrates with a new notification.

**UNKNOWN NUMBER  
** _That's really nice of you! I'll definitely be in touch._

Watching her speed away into the night, you swear that you heard that horse's whinny again. _(Y/N), you just met a woman without a head tonight. Wow, okay, it's certainly time to go to bed._

* * *

It's been a month and you still have never had visitors.

That was your first thought as you were pulled from your slumber by an annoyingly assertive knock at your door. The second was: who on earth would want to bother you at this hour!? Glancing at the analog clock mounted on your wall, you realized that you had crashed on your couch a mere half an hour ago. Man, you were really hoping to just check out the moment that you got home. You groan as the person knocks again, this time even louder.

You pull yourself from your temporary bed, dragging your own feet to the door. Taking a moment to compose yourself and suppress any unfriendly behavior, you peep through the hole of the door. At first, you don't exactly recognize the woman. She's a normal-looking lady, with a short haircut and tortoise-shell glasses. Staring at her face, you realize that it was Konoko, an older lady a few floors down from you. You had ended up on the elevator with her quite a few times and had engaged in pretty pleasant conversation with her. She was a nice lady, but what could she possibly need this late at night? Heaving a sigh, you open the door, pulling on the best fake smile that you can.

"Good evening, Miss Konoko!! What can I do for you?" The woman begins to approach your personal space, pushing you to move backwards and effectively letting herself into your apartment. It was a little rude, honestly, but she was older and you guys were acquaintances, so you guess it's fine. "(Y/N)! I've been thinking about you and I just wanted to see if you were doing alright!" _At 1 in the morning??_

"That's really sweet of you, ma'am, but I assure you that I'm doing just fine." You step out of the doorway in hopes that she takes the hint to leave, but she merely stays right where she is. 

"Aw, that's great to hear. I just hate that you had to come to be with us right when all of this chaos is happening! I do hope that you're staying safe." _MA'AM please read the room._

"No worries! I've been super careful and I have tons of friends who have my back. Although, I have had a bit of a long night and--"

"They have your back, do they?"

There's a change in her tone of voice that instantly rubs you the wrong way--as if it was getting higher and flatter. You eye her cautiously, noting how the light in front of your door was shining onto her glasses, hiding her eyes. A predatory smile spreads across her face, and with a tip of her chin she reveals them.

Glowing red eyes.

You can barely avoid the meat cleaver that she hurls directly at your head. _Where was she keeping that??_ Your fight or flight had been thoroughly exhausted and at this point you were just moving without thinking. As she goes to retrieve her weapon, you run past her, stumbling into the kitchen to find something to defend yourself with. 

"Seems like they're not here right now to defend you! Not like someone like you needs that though, right?"

You have no clue what she's talking about. Armed with the biggest, sharpest knife from your silverware drawer, you point your weapon at her, stammering at her to stay back. However, the emergence of several more figures from your (stupidly) open door tells you that you're gonna need more than a kitchen knife. Men and women of various shapes and sizes; all carrying some sort of sharp weapon and a demonically red gaze. The stream is never-ending, more and more people invading your apartment.

In a panic, you run out of the kitchen, making a bee-line for the balcony door in your living room. It wasn't the best route of escape in a penthouse apartment, but they all had the door crowded. Returning to the muggy air of the night, you frantically searched for an escape route. They were rapidly closing in, weapons raised the same way the reporter had his knife. Your heart clenched as your search for some sort of savior proved fruitless. Then, you spotted it: a ladder, most likely a fire escape, positioned right above the awning. Wasting no time, you climbed on top of a table as your attackers entered. A pair of scissors narrowly missed your bare toes as you pulled yourself up onto the ladder, quickly climbing upwards. 

Luckily, the ladder took you all the way up to the roof. You all but collapsed onto the ground, trying to recover from the sudden stress. _You had to call someone. Anyone. But who was awake???_ Over your labored breaths, you could hear the blessed sound of a horse's whinny. It was distinct; you would recognize that sound anywhere. Looking over the edge of the building, you can see Celty's bright yellow helmet from afar, her figure approaching what you hoped was your building. 

The sound of a door slamming open causes you to shriek. To your horror, it was another group of red eyed people. Heart hammering a mile a minute, you lean over the edge of the roof as much as possible, cupping your hands around your mouth before screaming in desperation.

" _CELTY!!!"_

Your voice echoes into the silence of the night. Looking downward, you realize that your chasers were now climbing up the same ladder as well, effectively cornering you. Your roofmates were steadily closing the distance, almost taunting you with their lack of speed. It was overwhelming. It was _terrifying._ With assailants coming on all sides, the only option was to....

A vibration in your pocket reminds you that you still had your phone with you. Pulling it out, you see a message from the same person you had called to.

 **CELTY  
** _Jump!! Now!!!_

You can spot her form now, it was getting much closer, and would be at your building in a matter of seconds. But what was she thinking?? From such a height, there was no saving you, no matter who was there to catch you. They're so close to you now, pressing you into the very ledge of the roof. The thick air was made even thicker by the presence of dozens of people crowded together. What were you going to do?? Do you want to die by stabbing or a long drop?

"No use resisting now, (Y/N)! Just let us love you!!! We'll love you to bits if you'd just let us!!!" Her voice is so monotone...eyes vacant of any empathy. _What exactly was it that she thought was love??_ You don't want to find out. You'd rather do _anything else_ than find out.

As your entire world shifts backwards, they realize too late what it is that you were doing. Konoko bolts forward with more speed than a lady her age should have. Swinging her hatchet, she narrowly misses your throat before you plummet. 

It was so freeing, the feeling of moving air, blowing against your back as you fell from such a great height. They say that your life flashes before your eyes during your final moments. You just wished that you had more than a year of memories to look back on.

_The sight of a flying street sign._

_The moment you first bumped into Walker and Erika._

_The last hug that you ever gave your father._

_Getting a perfect score on your first Japanese exam._

_Waking up to the worried face of your father._

_The hot, white glare of headlights as a car speeds right towards you._

_..._

_The aggravating, high pitched laughter of a group of girls._

_..._

You hadn't realized that your eyes were closed until they shot open. _What...?_

The blowing feeling froze, as if you had stopped falling. Was this it? Had you hit the ground and died? At first, the sight of swirling black shadows teasing your vision supported this thought. Then, buildings came into view and the roof that you had once stood on continued to move further away, but much slower this time. You gather the courage to sneak a peak and catch an eyeful of the shadows wrapping around your body, supporting your weight and carrying you to safety. Eventually, you're gently returned to the ground--right in front of your newfound friend.

You land on your feet, but your knees instantly give out, causing you to collapse onto the ground. Celty kneels in front of you, settling a comforting hand on your shoulder. She's showing you a message, but it takes you a minute to reorient yourself and read it.

**"Are you okay!? They didn't cut you, did they!?"**

Too dazed to speak, you simply shake your head no, eyes fixated on the blue pattern of her helmet. Her head droops in relief. Even with no head or voice, she still managed to be so expressive.

**"I need to take you with me, and we need to find Shizuo!"**

"Huh? Why?" Her urgency helps you snap out of it. You should have figured. The long night was only going to get even longer. Celty shows you her screen again, but this time, it's not a message; it's logs from the chatroom. The onslaught of messages that Saika had sent last night, obsessing over you and Shizuo. How had Celty got them...? You could only look at them for a second before frightening memories began to resurface and you had averted your gaze. "Let's go."

Celty hands you a helmet (you find it in you to smile at her concern for your safety) and the two of you board her bike. You took the opportunity to compose yourself, relishing in the sensation of wind tickling your skin. You had switched your sweat-soaked jacket for a soft cardigan, which now billowed in the wind behind you. Before, the mere implication that you were naive or innocent would have been offensive to you. After tonight's events though, it had become obvious just how unfamiliar with danger you were. You always knew that you had been sheltered, just not how much. 

Your friends, however, were so cool. They all seemed so special, so fitting to live in the lively city of Ikebukuro. They were strong, they were smart, and they were brave. Honestly, they all had what Walker would call "main character energy." You couldn't hold them back like that. You were no damsel in distress, you had to hold your own!

Father raised you better than that! 

The bike moves too fast for you to catch a glimpse of the street signs, but Celty is driving quite the distance away from your apartment. Are you guys still even in Ikebukuro? Looking over her shoulder, you catch a glimpse of two tall figures, one holding something very large. As they're figures draw closer and closer--Celty was heading right for them--a head of blonde hair reveals who it was. That made sense, who else could just carry around a hulking piece of metal like that? Your heart rate picks up as Celty draws closer and closer. She wasn't going to hit them, was she? 

Your entirely body jolts and you yelp, your grip on Celty tightening. When you're brave enough to open your eyes again, and you're eye to eye with someone.

His dark attire made him difficult to make out in the night, especially compared to the flashiness of Shizuo, but you had looked into those eyes before. The look on his face was one of astonishment. It was the sort of expression that you couldn't really picture on him. You had always imagined him with sly smirks and sharp stares. There's another jolt, as if you were landing on something--had you been airborne? Celty skids to a stop, landing sideways right before you could hit a wall. The last thing you wanted to do was let go of her after that wild ride, but she goes to approach Shizuo and you have to release her. 

"Well, now..." Izaya's voice is unexpectedly soft; smooth and pondering--the voice of an undoubtedly intelligent man. The combination of moving so quickly and the helmet had made it difficult to breathe, so you remove the gear for a moment.

"Celty? (Y/N)...why are you two here?"

You can't see what she shows Shizuo, but you assume that it's the same chatlog you had seen, the one with both of your names. He observes it for a moment, before his eyes widen and shift to you. Oddly calm, his first object of suspicion is Izaya. This guy must really be bad news, huh? "This your doing, too?" he grunts. Izaya shrugs his shoulders, his expression having shifted to that same smug look that you thought fit him better. 

"Honestly, if I knew getting these two ladies to show up on my doorstep was that easy... I would have bombed your house a long time ago!"

So Izaya knew Celty...more importantly, he knew _you_?? That doesn't make any sense at all! You expect Shizuo to lose his temper, to do something with that giant rod he was holding in his hand, but he simply dropped the weapon and went to board the bike. Replacing your helmet, you scooch up further on the bike so that there's more room for him on the back. Was he going to have to hold you like you held Celty...? You swallowed nervously at the thought. _Now is not the time (Y/N)... it's game time!_

However, as you psyched yourself up, you started to wonder: _what are we even going to do?_

* * *

Be surrounded completely by red-eyed demon people--that was the first order of business. It had to be twice the amount of people that had been at your apartment. You wonder if some of those people were here as well. Their murmurs surrounded you, filling your ears with _I love you, Shizuo...(Y/N), we love you...i love you i love you i love you..._ To say you weren't shaking in your shoes would be a big fat lie. But you were with Celty and Shizuo, two of the strongest people you knew. You would be fine.

Three girls step forward, separating themselves from the crowd. They're younger than you, most likely high school aged. In fact, looking at them closer, their clothing reminded you of the uniforms that the Raira kids wore. 

**_Kanra:_ ** _Did you guys hear? Rumor has it, some first years at Raira were attacked by the slasher!_

"I've been looking for you both, Shizuo Heiwajima and (Y/N) Brigall. Mother has led us to think that you are so wonderful. No one else has had the strength to resist our sisters."

Its disturbing, how the voice of a young girl was so distorted and emotionless. The adorably styled school uniform and the piercing red eyes was a recipe for cognitive dissonance. Was this really the leader...? Her drawl was hard to follow along with. Your focus switched from her to the masses of people now bearing their weapons, beginning to advance.

"Please, show us how strong you are! We're so excited to love you. No one, not even that _monster_ or the police can stop us, they're much too busy with my sisters, who are out there making more sisters."

"There are more of them?" you mutter in horror. At this point, you were absolutely not willing to relinquish your hold on Celty, whether she wanted you to or not. There's a shift in weight on the bike as Shizuo gets off. He slowly approaches the crowd, hands in his pockets.

There's an odd sound behind you, like a high, harsh wind. It's the same shadows that had caught you when you fell, they morphed into a long, sharp scythe. Oddly enough, the grim instrument brought you sense of comfort. The power was on your side. Your hold on the woman's waist loosens.

"Can I ask you something?" It's a simple, unwavering response. Of course he would be unfazed.

"Whatever you'd like."

"Why me? What makes you like me so much?"

"Because you're so strong!! A strength with no boundaries; we want that for ourselves. All the better to love humanity with. We like good genes the same way humans do."

The idea of Shizuo being taken into this vicious army sent shivers down your spine. They wanted to use him, turn him into a _monster--_ that was anything but love.

"And let's be honest here, odds are that no one else would ever love someone like you! We do, though, all of us!"

"That's not true!" _SHUT UP, (Y/N)!_

Your outburst draws attention to yourself, masses of red eyes all pointed in your direction. The one that upset your nerves the most, however, was the one set of brown. His sunglasses were on again, even in the dark of night, but you still remembered them.

Warm, pure brown eyes. 

"Stop trying to gaslight with your lies, it won't work! Shizuo is great and he could easily find anyone to love him and he's certainly not going to turn to _you._ And neither will I!"

Someone is laughing. Eyes sweeping over the crowd, you can't tell who it is. Then, you notice the shaking of Shizuo's shoulders. Why was he laughing?? Was he laughing at you?? There's an insistent burning under your cheeks as you wonder if you had really just embarrassed yourself. Celty runs up to him, no doubt concerned by the sudden outbursts.

"No, Celty. Honestly, I'm kinda happy right now." _Happy...?_ He's smiling, staring at the palm of his hand. "I've hated this power so much. I always thought that because of it, no one would ever accept me."

Your heart sinks at the explanation. It made sense that he felt that way. Everyone always treated him as some sort of fantastical figure, not a real person with feelings or thoughts. It's hard to lead a normal life like that, having friends and finding love.

"But looks like I was wrong!" _That's right Shizuo, you're wrong--and so is everyone else._ He sizes up the crowd almost jovially, before removing his sunglasses. What was he doing? "And just so we're clear, none of you are my type! Not a bit, not a drop, not at all!"

You're so distracted chuckling at the comment that you're startled at the sight of him lunging directly at the crowd. In a flash, bodies are flying, landing in bushes and trees. It's unreal how quickly he conquers whoever comes at him. Even possessed by whatever this thing was, these people were still in their ordinary human bodies, weak to Shizuo's strength. Celty joins you on the bike, never looking away from the brawl happening before the two of you. You couldn't blame her, it _was_ really cool. 

A pile begins to form and it looks like they're about to overwhelm him. However, it practically explodes, Shizuo standing powerful as ever at the center, sending even more slashers in all different directions. They're recovering, though, rising from their defeated states and returning to the battle. Shizuo wasn't getting too tired, either. Suddenly, everything seems to stop. The crowd's onslaught pauses, their heads turning simultaneously in one direction. Somewhere off in the distance.

"Something must have happened," Shizuo calls to Celty, unaffected by the man he was holding in a headlock, "Wanna go check it out? Not like you're busy at the moment." Celty nods, somehow materializing a pair of gloves from that shadow stuff and throwing it to Shizuo. After reading a message from her, he grins and eagerly puts them on. Were they some kind of protective gear? She's not done yet, however, manifesting some sort of jacket and handing it to you.

**"I need you to stay here. Whatever that was could be dangerous. I'm fairly certain that Shizuo has you covered, but put that on just in case. With the helmet."**

You pout for a moment at the sheer difference in amount of the protection she gave you, compared to the tiny gloves she gave Shizuo. "Thank you, Celty. Be safe."

You hop off of the bike, the feeling of cool concrete beneath your feet reminding you that you've still got no shoes on. Celty speeds away and you discard your cardigan to pull on the jacket. It's kind of like hers, with a high neck and gloves attached. It was a little bulky pulled over your top (did she wear anything under hers?), but now wasn't the time to worry about style. The crowd seemed to snap out of their stupor, continuing their pursuit of Shizuo. 

No matter how much they tried to overcome him, he pushed back harder and harder. You tried to stay back, using the darkness of Celty's jacket to better blend in with the shadows. You very strongly regret wearing these orange pants today. It seemed that they were so excited about fighting Shizuo, they momentarily forgot about you. The sound of several bodies hitting the streetlamp near you causes you to yelp. The mere force almost knocks the streetlamp over completely. They would recover soon, and when they did, they were gonna see you, no doubt. Backing away, you scan your surroundings for an escape.

You couldn't leave Shizuo and endanger you or himself, but there weren't many places that weren't overrun. Behind you, there's a tree whose height matches that of the street lamp's. Climbing trees was not a regular hobby for you, but right now you were going to have to make it work. The sound of maniacal laughter rings in your ears, signaling that they were starting to wake up. Hastily backing up to the tree, you grab onto one of the lower branches and start to pull yourself up. The friction of the bark against the balls of your feet is enough to keep you from sliding back down. As you make your way up the tree, you kick the lower branches as an afterthought, snapping them off to prevent anyone from following your example.

When you make it to the top, your celebration is shortlived, as you look back just in time to watch Shizuo fall right into the crowd of Slashers. They pounce immediately, even from the distance you can see them swinging their weapons, hungry for the kill. _No no no no nonononnononono_

" _SHIZUO!!!"_

It's enough to get them to turn to you, immediately finding your spot in the tree. So much for blending into the shadows. Half of them begin to approach you, leaving the pile around Shizuo. You're more concerned with the center of the pile though, eyes peeled for a head of blonde hair. _Please be okay...please be okay..._

It's not a head of blonde hair, but the explosion of people is just as much of a relief. He emerges, with several slashes, but no glowing eyes. Were those gloves affecting the rest of his body...? 

You're now concerned with the flurry of Slashers now headed in your direction. With the sheer amount of them, they could pile on top of each other high enough to climb any tree. You had to take them out. But how??? You weren't Shizuo!! You couldn't take them out with one punch. You couldn't rip streetlamps out of the ground with one hand!

_Streetlamps._

Specifically, the streetlamp that was so close to being knocked down completely. It would only take a few more hits go down. Gripping the branches around you tightly, you stick a foot out as far as you can in hopes of reaching it. The cold metal gently meets the ball of your foot, answering all of your hopes and prayers. Planting your butt into the divot of the tree, you reel both feet back, ready to release a rush of kicks to knock it over. When your heels drive into the lamp, you're surprised to see it tip over completely, toppling over onto the crowd. Guess Shizuo had loosened it more than you thought! 

While it doesn't take everyone out, only pinning down a straight line of slashers, it's enough that they can't crowd together and climb on top of each other. You relish in being safe for now. That is, until one of them comes forward with an axe.

_An AXE!? Are you kidding me!? That's not a little ole slashing, that is straight up decapitation!_

There wasn't a way out of this one, that was for certain. He's staring right at you, smile taunting as he prepares to swing it at the tree. If they knocked it over, that would be it. You would go falling right into them. 

"I love you, (Y/N)!! I love you, I love you, I love you, I love...you..."

It's like watching a city of lights go out all at once. Countless pairs of red, flickering away simultaneously. Cacophonies of metal clattering onto concrete. The man's axe follows suit, falling to the ground. You release a breath you didn't even realize that you were holding. Voices filled your ears and you almost cry when you hear how they're filled with personality and emotion. Was it gone??

It's hard to get down from the tree, but you can only blame yourself for that. At the last moment, you slip and fall right on your butt, but you're too distracted to feel any pain. Instead, you go running right into the crowd, desperately searching for one person. There's so many people, you start to worry that you wouldn't find him. However, there's a break in the masses of people and there he is, right in the center. He's on the ground, covered in cuts that look so much worse up close. "Shizuo!!" you exclaim, tumbling to the ground beside him. "Oh my god, are you okay?"

There's no restraint in the way your hands cradle his face. It'd be so embarrassing, normally, but all you wanted right now was to see his eyes--to look into them and see not an ounce of red. They're still that amiable shade of brown. You don't remember the last time you cried and you honestly wouldn't be surprised if it was another memory you had lost, so you guess the tears that flooded your eyes were a sort of milestone. 

"(Y/N)...? Shit, (Y/N) are _you_ okay!? I'm fine, I promise!" You laugh at his concern, leaning your head on his shoulder to hide your tears.

"I told you to stop wearing those _stupid_ sunglasses. You even had to take them off to fight!" you laugh, trying to cover up your sniffles. Shizuo smiles, lifting his hand to your back in an attempt to comfort you. It's a simple gesture, but it makes you feel safe, even surrounded by all of these people. 

The two of you walk home in a comfortable silence. At some point, the gear that Celty gave you had dissipated. Maybe it had some sort of expiration date...? "Aw man, I left my cardigan at the park!" you groan. 

"Need to go back and grab it?" 

"Absolutely not, I am this close to collapsing right where I stand. I'll get another one." He chuckles at your answer, letting it be. "Hey, by the way, thank you," you say after a while.

"Huh? For what?"

"Well, for everything, I guess? For my life? Without you, I'd have been diced into bits, by now!"

"I see...well, thank you." You stare up at him owlishly. "Thank _me_? What'd I do?"

"For what you said, about me being great. No one's ever said something like that about me before. Well, besides Tom, but it's different coming from you."

You don't have an answer to that. It's kinda sad to think that all his life he had been made to be ashamed of his strength. Life really is harder when you're different. The chance that he was starting to break out of the shame was a bit of consolation. You smile to yourself. "No thank you needed...I meant it."

"Hey!! Gimme all your money!!"

There's a man running up to you, brandishing a knife. It reminded you of the man who had attacked you earlier, except this man's eyes were normal as ever. You're not frightened at all, instead feeling sorry for the man. Did he know he was messing with? He stops in his tracks, most likely catching a glimpse of Shizuo's face. Before he can do anything else, Shizuo socks him in the face, sending yet another person flying into the night. You click your tongue, shaking your head in disbelief. 

"Think that was another one of those red-eyed wierdos?" he asked, returning his fist to his pocket.

"Nope, just a poor idiot."

* * *

Izaya leaned back on his couch, releasing a pleased sigh. The night ended up harboring some unexpected twists, what with Anri revealing herself as the true mother of Saika, as well as the Saika pursuing both Shizuo _and_ (Y/N), but it all only boosted the success of his plan. The strings holding Ikebukuro together were only being stretched thinner and thinner. 

Of course, the eyewitness accounts of that _monster_ being treated so affectionately by a certain foreigner, accompanied by rumors that _the_ Shizuo Heiwajima now had a girlfriend, made his blood boil shamefully hot. It was a shame that he _hadn't_ been killed by that foolish Nasujima. It'd be fine, he assured himself. After all, with all of the information he had been feeding one of his highest paying customers, another faze of a different plan would be setting itself into notion _very soon_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me??? acknowleding canon events???? who would have thought


	10. Beginning of the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the execution of all things - rilo kiley
> 
> "someone, come quickly  
>  this place was built for moving out  
>  leave behind buildings, the city planners got mapped out,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry updates have been slowing down--it's grad week for me!! (class of 2020 les gooooo)  
> it'll be picking back up soon !  
> \--  
> the amount of RESEARCH that I have done on fashion whilst writing this thing is crazy!!!  
> TW: violence, minor blood, minor sexual harassment

**ERIKA  
** _Walker replaced Saburo's door. Wanna see?_ **  
**

**ME  
** _Absolutely._

 **ERIKA  
** _Attachment: 1 Image_

You drop your phone from laughing so hard at the picture. It's a selfie, with Walker and Erika posing for the camera in front of the van's door. The door itself is an entirely different color and, more importantly, has a cute anime girl in a maid's costume on it. The funniest part was that both Kyohei and Saburo could be seen in the back, visibly in grief. Oh, poor, poor Saburo! 

**ME  
** _There's no way you guys aren't gonna be recognized with that!_

**ERIKA**  
_That's what Dotachin said!_

**ERIKA  
** _Are you doing okay?_ **  
**

There it was. Erika was always a carefree person, always with a lighthearted air about her. It was rare to see her talk about more serious matters, or at least approach them in a serious way. When she did, it was always in disguise; sandwiched between jokes and fun conversation.

 **ME  
** _Yeah, just tired. I ran an errand this morning. besides that I think I'm gonna have a day in, today._

Said 'errand' was a trip to the hospital to visit Anri, who had her own run-in with the slasher. You kept your cool, however--someone had to because it was only Mikado there after Masaomi ran off. It was only a lot of small cuts, you noticed, easily treated with bandages and disinfectant. She was surprisingly chipper, smiling for the first time in what felt like a while. You grinned, amused as she explains her story of the Headless Rider coming to save her. The grin broadened at the blush on her cheeks. _A little crush on Celty, huh? Mikado's got some competition!_ Mikado was sweet about it, assuring her that he believed her admittedly crazy story. "If you said it, it must be true!"

"Oh, it was. I was attacked by the Slasher, myself. In my own apartment, no less." They both stared at you with wide eyes. Smiling back, you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. "It was actually the Headless Rider who saved me, as well. Not just that, though, but Shizuo Heiwajima, too!"

Mikado's eyes were practically popping out of his head at your story. As he ranted nervously about the two of you having some interesting lives, you made eye contact with Anri, who snuck you a smile. You were just glad she was alright.

**ERIKA**  
_Cool. Let us know if you need anything. :)_

Ah, so it was an 'us'. Your heart flutters as you wonder if the boys were worried as well. They were all so kind to you--it was crazy how lucky you were. Living here was wild, you had to admit that, but the friends made it worth it. It occurred to you that this would only last for a year. What would you do once you left? You could always text and email, sure, but what about the people that weren't texters? What about the people that you weren't necessarily the closest to, but were still consistent in your every day life? What about the shops you liked the most and your favorite hangout spots?

Texting is a fine and dandy form of communication but it's not comparable to seeing them in person. Nothing could compare to the stars in Erika's eyes, Walker's enthusiastic gestures, Saburo's happy tears, Kyohei's exhausted sighs, Shizuo's warm, brown stare, Anri's mousy voice, or Celty's tapping fingers. You wouldn't see any more of that once you left. Sighing, you realize how much you've dampened your spirits. Your phone vibrates with another text and you check it, assuming it's another one of your friends.

Your blood turns to ice in a matter of seconds. You swallow in an attempt to wet your drying mouth, but nothing could relieve the sudden need for water. 

**FATHER  
** _You need to come home. Soon._

Your father was a curt man. What he needed to express, he expressed with actions. Not words, not phone calls, and certainly not texts. Your hands are trembling now. You thought that everything was going fine! What possibly could have happened? Shakily, you type out a message in reply.

**ME**  
_Why, has something happened?_

The sudden appearance of a call startles you and you drop your phone in surprise. Lo and behold, your father's contact appears on the screen. You take a moment to compose yourself before answering the call. There's eery silence.

"H-hello?"

_"(Y/N)."_

It had been so long since you had heard his voice. On any other occasion, it would have been soothing to you, but there was something about this context, his tone, that sets you on edge. Ignoring your growing dread, you clear your throat and answer him, polishing your out-of-practice English the best that you could.

"Good morning, Father! I-I've missed y-."

_"There is a plane coming for you tonight. I expect you to board that flight and be home by midnight."_

"What!? Did something happen, are you okay??"

 _"Do not worry about me. I've simply decided that sending you to Ikebukuro was not the most optimal course of action. You are to return immediately."_ It was foreign, how he was speaking to you. He had always been a curt man, but your father was always warm and affectionate to you. Now he was so impersonal, commanding.

_"Father, you're frightening me a little..."_

_"You do not intend to disobey me, do you?"_

The sudden severity of his tone makes you wince. It seemed that whatever situation this was, it was dire. You meekly reply that no, you would never disobey him and you would see him tonight. 

_"Good. Do not worry about packing, just come as you are. And one more thing. You are not to speak of this to anyone. Disappear without a trace."_ At this, you are completely awake. You stand from your position on the bed, surprised by the feeling that had welled up in you so quickly. For the first time, you were feeling outraged towards your beloved father. Disappear? Without a trace?? How could he possibly expect that from you? You had already made so much progress with your studies!! More importantly, what about all of your friends? Just in the past month, you had gotten closer to them than you ever had to anyone! They even seemed to really like you! Some even seemed to…

It’s hard to discern the exact source of the burning sensation in your face, but it spurs you to speak up. However, the moment you open your mouth, there’s a click and the line goes dead. 

The sound of the monotone infuriates you. Tears of frustration pool in the corners of your eyes as you throw yourself onto your bed. What on earth _was_ this? A month had gone by without any contact with your father. He had warned you of this, stating that he wanted you to have an independent experience. In spite of that, you had got along fine! You were only knocked out cold by the strongest man in Ikebukuro (possibly the world), invited to join a colorless color gang, shown the dark shadow abyss of a headless woman, and attacked by multiple possessed demon people...but he didn't even know about all of that! What could have possibly changed his mind?

Worse than that, what could you possibly do about it? You had never disobeyed him--you never had a reason to. He had always been so charitable and kind and generous, you practically idolized him. Sighing, you roll over onto your back. You would have to leave your friends, not telling them anything. You could only imagine how worried they'd be if you just disappeared. Did this mean you couldn't contact them afterward? That you would never interact with them ever again?

It wasn't fair. Less fair than losing your memory, less fair than almost being murdered by a red-eyed zombie mob.

...but you just couldn't disobey your father.

* * *

"So, what happened to a day in?" You smile at Saburo's question. So Erika had been relaying your messages to the rest of the gang after all. 

"I thought I'd be sleeping the day away, but after an hour I got so restless, I couldn't even stay laying down! Guess I'm just not the nocturnal type." You were all leaned up against the van, enjoying your lunches. You sat cross-legged between Walker and Erika, while Saburo and Kyohei remained standing. The last thing you wanted to do was sit around all day, dreading the moment you would have to board a plane and leave the life you had made behind. Your friends would know the last time they saw you as the night some possessed man tried to stab you. 

A flurry of different sounds reaches your ears. A chime, a short jingle, a deep vibration...a high pitched girl's voice? As your friends all look down at their phones, you realize that it had been their ringtones. A vibration in your pocket alerts you of your own device. Your friends don't miss how you've joined them in checking your phone and, exchanging looks with each other, decide to ignore it in favor of the importance of the message they had all apparently received.

"This guy...he's like--the leader of the Dollars, right?" Walker questions from beside you.

 **admin@dollars:** _Seeking information on the Slasher._

It was a simple, short request, but to everyone who saw it, it carried great weight. Whoever the leader, the creator of this entire gang, was, they were seeking out the Slasher. If they did find it, there was bound to be some type of battle. Was there really one person responsible, though? After all, it had been a mob of people last night, and even those people didn't seem to understand what they were doing after their eyes went back to normal. It was almost as if it was some sort of supernatural force, not one sole being--and somehow, that supernatural force was trying to put Shizuo--and you--under its control.

How would it do that, though? All it seemed to be trying to do was slash you both to pieces! That didn't make sense if they wanted you on their side, did it? Now that you thought about it... _none of the Slasher's victims died, did they?_ Mr. Niekawa, the three girls from Raira...they simply came back but possessed. Did the Slasher possess people by attacking them? That wouldn't make sense...you know people, _two_ people in particular who were cut by the Slasher and came out just fine. One of them was basically a superhuman with extraordinary capabilities, and the other... was just a normal little high school girl...

You feel a nudge on your shoulder. Erika, the culprit, has a look in her eye that you can't discern. Realizing that you had zoned out for a bit, you force a smile back onto your face. "Hey, you guys have a bunch of copies of that manga left, right? _Super Tragic High School Life_?" The intensity of her gaze dissipates in seconds as if it had never been there.

"Oh, yeah! Turns out that store didn't have the special edition. Some guy in Shinjuku got it," she explains. Walker is practically steaming at the ears, his face going red. "What a waste," he murmurs indignantly. 

"Any way I could borrow a copy or two? I'm interested in reading it."

"Of course! They're not in the trunk anymore, though. We'd have to go back to my place to get them," Walker says.

"Oh, that's fine. In fact, you can drop them off at my apartment the next time you're in the area. It'll get to me eventually." 

You don't notice how Kyohei's eyes narrowed at the odd wording of your statement. The pair are excited by your interest, providing you with some background on the series. They're not very good at avoiding spoilers, but you don't mind. When their explanation ends, you turn your attention to Saburo, asking what his favorite songs from Ruri Hijiribe were.

"Wha- you can't just ask me that and expect an immediate answer! Gimme until tonight to look through her discography and I'll give you an answer by midnight--maybe later." 

Your laughter is louder than you usually allow it to be, almost as if you're forcing it. This was a happy, lighthearted moment with your friends, you told yourself. Sighing, you don't realize how your head has fallen onto Walker's shoulder. "I can wait," you muse, grinning.

* * *

It was odd, being the only one out of the two of you to actually drink the tea in your hands. However, the basically decapitated body in front of you was even odder. Celty sat across from you, hands neatly tucked into her lap. You don't know why you expected some sort of gory mess where her neck and head would be attached, but the simple black stream of mist wafting out was certainly a better sight. The top of her bodysuit is partially unzipped, revealing her ghostly pale skin. Looking at her was a surreal experience itself, yet here you were, having a conversation with her. "So, you live here with Shinra? Are you guys good friends?"

The wriggling of her shoulders as she twiddles her thumbs tells you otherwise. **"Actually, he's my fiance. We're partners."**

You squeal in excitement. That was so cute!! Celty, the dark, daredevil of a woman was going to marry a friendly, nerdy Shinra. Unconventional pairs had always been your favorite. Heartened by the news, you ask her all sorts of questions. How long had they known each other, how long had they been engaged, did they know when the ceremony was going to be, what were their plans for the wedding? It was against your better judgment to pry so much, but Celty didn't seem perturbed at all, answering all of your questions to the best of her ability.

You're not surprised by her apparent immortality, considering she _is_ a woman walking around without a head. She had known Shinra since he was a young boy. That part was a little odd to you, but she clarified that she hadn't had any sort of interest in him until he was an adult. It seemed as though she hadn't thought much about an actual ceremony, leaving those plans to Shinra. The way she talks about him, it's obvious that he's impossibly whipped for her. You smile into your tea, imagining the calm and collected doctor who you had met long ago blushing and pampering his lovely headless wife. **"But hey, whatever it is, how would you feel about being apart of it?"**

You almost spit out your tea after reading her message. "R-Really!? You're sure about that?"

**"Yeah! You're supposed to include your friends, right? Maybe you can even help me pick out dresses, since you know about that stuff."**

You're over the moon, already picturing the event. However big or small it ended up being, it would be an honor to be a part of something so special. Celty would look absolutely stunning in a dark gown--no white, it wouldn't be staying true to her character--with gold accents. Maybe _Shinra_ would be the one in white. Maybe bridesmaids would be in gold dresses? Something that matched her helmet. Celty respectfully listens as you express these thoughts. However, your rant stops abruptly.

**"Is something wrong? You stopped kind of suddenly there."**

"No, it's nothing! I just remembered that I....um..."

_I'm not going to be there for your wedding._

It feels as though every ounce of glee that was in your body had dissipated in a matter of seconds. You wouldn't be there to help Celty with her dress or see her walk down the aisle. You'd be gone, with no one knowing what happened to you. Your fingers tighten their grip on the teacup. It occurs to you that you both have been sitting in silence. "...I'm worried I may forget all of this!! Maybe we should write it down somewhere." Celty leaves her position on the couch, motioning for you to follow her. She leads you to a smaller room with a desk and computer. You stand behind her and she pulls up a notepad window, typing something onto it.

**"Good idea. I'm definitely going to need your guidance."**

_I'll do my best, Celty._

* * *

Shizuo's bartender uniforms held a great significance to him, that he had made clear from very early on. It was sweet, how he wanted to show his appreciation for his brother's generosity. After all, it would have been a shame for all of those uniform sets to go to waste after he had been fired from that job. But god...  
you would pay _millions_ to see him wear _literally anything else_!

"Anything here that catches your eye? Remember, price isn't an issue--it's technically part of my studies, so Father won't mind if I splurge a little bit."

You could really go all out here--put him in a fitted pant, add a fit-ribbed turtle-neck, throw on a nice peacoat--but you worried that if you took it too far out of his comfort zone, it would just collect dust in his closet. Shizuo eyes the displays of clothes surrounding him, haphazardly perusing different racks before moving to the next one. Honestly...he looks lost...but things like this take time. "How about you pick out something? You'd know way more about this than me," he finally says. You take delight in the fact that he trusts you so much. This fact is lost on Shizuo however, who is pretty unsettled by the intense stare you're giving him right now. In reality, you're sizing him up, taking note of his body type and which traits to maximize or minimize. You briefly wonder how someone so strong could still have so lithe of a body. 

His unease is worsened by the dangerous smile you give him. "Okay, just remember you asked for this," you chide, already escaping into the depths of the store in search of a perfect ensemble.

As curious as you were to see Shizuo in something soft and flowery, you had to give him something he could wear to work. That meant upping the intimidation factor. Something fitted would definitely emphasize the sturdiness of his frame. If you were to add some layering, you could make him appear bulkier. For the sake of change and novelty, black and white would be a no-no. Some pops of color wouldn't hurt him. You're handing him a set of clothing and ushering him to a dressing room in a matter of five minutes.

"This is one outfit?? You gave me like three shirts," he calls to you.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's a button-up, a sweater, and a jacket--and yes, you do put it on in that order!"

His sigh is audible, but other than that, he puts on the clothes without any other complaints. It takes him longer to put it on than it did for you to find it, but you're patient with the man. After a lot of shuffling, grunting, and cursing, your friend finally emerges. You have to hold back your squeal in the quiet store. Even in the disheveled state that he had put it on, the outfit was already doing wonders for him. "You look so good!! Well, don't just stand there--come here, I want you to see a few things!" You're speaking to him as if drawing a small child from his hiding spot, bringing him over to a mirror. You remove his jacket, temporarily draping it over your arm.

He had tucked in the button up, which was good, you tell him, but the sweater was meant to be tucked too. After he complies, you tug at the material around his waist, loosening the sweater and giving it a little room to billow. "It's very lightweight material, so it won't get too hot or bulky," you explain, tugging at the fabric on his shoulders as well. It was a professional combination that he could easily sport at work, and the fit of it accentuated the broadness of his shoulders, you added. It's lost on you how flustered he is by the bold contact.

"I wanted to show you the effects of the ensemble without the jacket, since it's getting warmer and you won't need it pretty soon. Which is a shame because _this.._." You hold the jacket open as a gesture for him to put it on. "...is the icing on top of the cake!" The dark violet, velvety corduroy jacket was perhaps your best find ever. It was a more casual aspect of the otherwise professional look, perfect for when he was off the job. Really, you just couldn't resist putting some color on him. 

"You really put a lot of thought into this, huh? Didn't take you long either." Shizuo's eyes meet yours through the mirror. Even with his eyes covered, you can't help but feel as though he's thinking about something. You decided not to bother him about his sunglasses tonight, even though they kind of clash with the look but _it's fine no worries not a big deal._ "Well, yeah, of course! Not like I haven't thought about it before." A second passes before you realize the implications of your statement. "Like, what clothes you would look good in!! Whenever I meet someone, I can't help but dress them up in my head." One of his eyebrows raise. "Not in a weird way!! Of course, not in a weird way....just....do you like it??"

His gaze returns to his own form, scanning up and down the clothing. You watch with bated breath, gauging his reaction. You barely see the beginnings of a smile at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, I do." You can hear a stadium of fans in your head, cheering and celebrating. Before he can say anything else, you're practically dragging him to the cashier to pay for it--with him still wearing it. You won't let him even sneak a peek at the receipt, not even after he's put on his normal clothes.

"Are you sure that you're okay with buying me those clothes?" he asks one more time as you leave the store.

"Absolutely sure. I want you to have those, Shizuo." _To remember me by._ "Consider it my special gift to you!"

He doesn't argue further, only smiling and shaking his head at your persistence. You would definitely miss that smile.

* * *

"Hey, thanks for waiting , you guys! I know it's been a long school week. You must be tired." You sat next to Mikado and Masaomi at the bar area of Russia's Sushi, waving Denis over. "Get whatever you want. My treat."

Mikado, as expected, is reluctant to mooch off of your funds, still selecting a measly, cheaper dish. Masaomi teases him, encouraging him to truly appreciate your generosity. Despite this, you notice that he chooses one of the cheaper options as well. Guess they're just conditioned that way. 

"So, what did you want to meet us for?" Mikado asks as Denis goes off to prepare your order. You hum at him, your brow raising in question. "I mean, you asked us to meet with you, kind of out of the blue. Is something wrong?"

"I can't ask my friends to hang out?" Mikado's cheeks flush, his eyes going wide as he waves his hands in some sort of apologetic gesture.

"WHAT no, I'm not saying that at all! I just figured with your incident last night, you were asking for help with something! Plus, I never thought you'd considered us as friends-- _not that there's anything wrong with that_ I'm glad to be your friend and I'm sure that Masaomi is too, I mean the age difference is a little strange but--"

"Mikado, chill out, you're gonna blow a gasket." It's funny how the boys served as such obvious foils to one another. Usually, it was Mikado having to reel Masaomi back in, but it looks like the blonde is capable of returning the favor. You shake your head, twirling your finger around the rim of your water glass. "I just wanted to hang with you guys. I'm sad Anri couldn't be here, but I'm gonna visit her later."

"What incident is Mikado talking about?" Masaomi asks. He sounds nonchalant about the matter, but there's a solemnity in his gaze that surprises you. "Oh yeah, you weren't there when I told Anri and Mikado. I had my own encounter with the Slasher last night. A bunch of them, in fact. I was luckier than Anri, though."

"There was a surge of attacks last night, wasn't there? Not to mention, a bunch of people woke up in certain locations with no memory of how they got there..." Mikado reflected Masaomi's serious demeanor, rubbing his chin in thought. The air is grimmer than you'd like it to be. "But hey, I'm alright now! Looking back on it, it was all pretty cool," you try to lighten the mood, picking up your glass and jovially clinking it against Mikado's, "to living!" Mikado smiles at you halfheartedly, making an obvious effort to cheer up. Masaomi, however, eats it up, raising his glass and sloppily clinking it against yours. 

After Denis returns with your food, you all dig in happily. You were quite the hypocrite. Even after changing subjects from the Slasher, you couldn't stop thinking about it yourself. Nor could you stop pondering the mass forum message you had received earlier that day. What would happen if the leader of the Dollars went head to head with the Slasher...?

"Hey, Masaomi, you kind of disappeared this morning. Where'd you run off to...?" you ask, forcing the thoughts away. Masaomi doesn't meet your gaze, toying with the remaining morsels of food on his tray. "Oh, just had to pay a visit to someone, is all."

Was it just you, or were both of these young men being super cryptic for no reason? Maybe it was a thing for teenage boys to brood on a regular basis, puberty and all that. Still, it was out of character for Masaomi to act so...somberly. Even when he was joking around, there was still something so subdued about him. Poor kid, what happened to Anri must have done a number on him. 

For the rest of the night, you take it upon yourself to maintain a light atmosphere. You ask them about their studies and classes at school. In a city like this, it's hard to imagine that there were students here who had to carry out a daily schedule and focus on schoolwork. Having them talk about school lifts their spirits, you notice, giving them something mundane and lighthearted to focus on. 

It gets even closer to closing, as well as the time of your flight, so you have to say good night to the pair. If you moved fast enough, you could still pay Anri a visit, since she had returned back home from the hospital. You heave a sigh as you watch the boys walk away, trying to will away the apprehension welling up in your chest. "Sighing is sign of sadness. Something wrong?" Simon's voice startles you. Looks like he had returned to his flier distribution post. 

"Oh! Hey, Simon! No, nothing's wrong. I was just thinking." Your smiling muscles had grown too tired over the course of the day, giving away the falsehood of your greeting. Simon, however, is exerting enough smiling strength for both of you. 

"That so? I find myself thinking all the time! So I can tell--just by look on person's face--when their thoughts make them sad."

 _I can see right through your lies_ is what he's basically saying. Looking up at Simon, you can't help but think that the man is a walking oxymoron. He was always smiling and friendly, yet his large frame made him intimidating--on the other hand, his presence right now brought you an odd sense of comfort. It was the same way you had felt the first time you met him: like he was the one person who, no matter what, you could definitely go to in your time of need. Could this be one of those times?

"I was thinking about how when I-- _if_ I ever had to leave this place...how much I'd miss everything and everybody," you confess. It's freeing, being able to voice your concerns. Technically, you weren't revealing anything that you weren't supposed to. Simon wordlessly opens the door to his restaurant, ushering you back inside. It was only a couple minutes after closing, and Denis was still at the bar, wiping down countertops. Your eyes meet for a moment before he simply nods in acknowledgment and returns to his work. Simon gestures for you to sit at the bar and you comply. He leaves you there, disappearing through the door leading to what you presume to be the kitchen.

After a moment, he returns, holding a cup of steaming hot tea. You recognize it as the same tea you regularly enjoyed with the van gang. The tension in your shoulders seems to wash away as you take a long sip of the steaming liquid. The others always complained about it being painfully hot, but you found the heat to be pleasant. Taking a break from the tea, you watch as Simon hums and taps his chin, obviously pondering something. After a moment, he has a noticeable epiphany, snapping his fingers in a 'eureka' moment. Pointing at you, he excitedly imparts his own words of wisdom.

"Never leave!"

You can only continue to stare at him, your blinking lids suddenly feeling heavier as you process what he had said. _Never leave...?_ Your chuckle sounds more bitter than you intend it to be. "Of course, if it worked that way, I wouldn't _ever_ leave, Simon--but there's going to be a time where I _have_ to."

"Yes, of course, there may be time when you want to leave, but you just wait for that time to come!" You don't know if it's the language barrier or the sheer naivete of the statement, but you are thoroughly confused. You look over at Denis, who returns your gaze. However, he only shrugs and continues cleaning. 

"W-Well, that'd be nice if I had the _choice_ but--there are other factors...there are reasons...why I would have to leave." It's very hard to explain without sharing too much. At this point, it was becoming a little too obvious that this situation wasn't entirely hypothetical. Simon's smile suddenly drops. He doesn't look angry or discontented per se, but he talks slowly, his next words carrying a great weight.

"Other factors is correct--but nothing can force you--not if you don't want to."

You have no response to that. No rebuttal or explanation for how that was obviously not the right answer. You could only sit there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He was telling you to disobey your father. Not word for word, but that was the advice he was giving you. To go against Father's wishes--that would be ridiculous. Of course, he couldn't force you, but he never would! He had done so much for you, always holding your best interest at heart. 

"Only you know what's best for you." The voice is foreign and you look around the room to find where it came from. You're surprised to find that it was the usually silent Denis. His gaze is the same, stern and tired, but it's trained so intently on you in a way it had never been before. "Others may think they know what's best, or act like they know what's best, but you're the only one who can truly make that decision."

His Japanese was clearer than Simon's. You wonder what time he had to practice, considering he had rarely spoken as far as you knew. Your gaze switched between the two of them, noting how they seemed to have the same opinion on the matter. It was a really headstrong conclusion to make: no one, not even your father, had the right to force you out of something that was good for you. All you had been taught growing up was to be obedient and respectful, namely to your father. When he told you to do something, anything otherwise hadn't even been considered an option. In fact, you don't recall ever receiving any form of punishment.

Maybe...just this once...he would be understanding? He was always so kind to you...he would respect your wishes, wouldn't he? If you explained how much this city meant to you--and you were willing to compromise! Maybe if you left for a brief period and came back, or if you could at least keep in contact with your friends and let them know where you were. You felt as though a physical weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. The whole day, you had felt so hopeless, but there _was_ hope! All you had to do was speak up for yourself a little bit!

When you try to pay for the tea before leaving, Simon refuses the payment, claiming that it was a "Regular's Special" or something. Choosing not to argue, you thank the two men and say your goodbyes. As you walk through the plaza, you can't help but notice how much emptier it is than normal. People must have decided to stay indoors in response to all of the Slasher attacks. Due to the prolonged time spent at Russia's Sushi, you were cutting it a little close between your visit to Anri's and the boarding time for your flight. 

If you called him right now, would he let you miss the flight? Would you be able to head to Anri's, tell the whole funny story, and laugh it off? Would you be able to stay here longer? You stare at your phone in your hand, dreading the moment you would have to press that 'call' button. Father had never been angry with you. The way he had spoken this morning was truly the shortest he had ever been. Perhaps he was just in a bad mood at the time. Now that he'd had the whole day to wake up, he'd be more pleasant, like he always was. He would understand. He would understand. _He would understand_.

_"Dr. Brigall speaking."_

You had called him without even realizing it. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you raise the phone to your ear.

"F-Father! This is (Y/N)."

 _"(Y/N),"_ you swear you could hear a sigh, but it could have just been background noise. _"Something the matter? The time to board your flight is approaching. On your way to the airport, I presume?"_

"N-No, not ye--no, I'm not." Trying to correctly place your words is excruciating and your stuttering all over the place. You had hoped he would've returned to his warmer demeanor, but it was actually making the deed harder. 

" _Well, why would that be? Punctuality is very important, you wouldn't want to keep everyone on the plane waiting, would you?"_

"Father, I've had such a great time here. I've made so many friends and already progressed so much in my studies!"

 _"That's great to hear. I'm glad you benefited from this in some way before you had to return home."_ You realize that he's not getting the point; that you would have to state it explicitly.

"Exactly! So...imagine how much I could benefit from staying here the whole year, like we had originally planned!"

 _"...(Y/N), I hope you're not trying to do what I think you're doing. I thought I made myself very clear this morning. You are going to be on that flight."_ You can already hear how his tone is starting to shift, mimicking that same strict attitude from this morning.

"I-I understand that you think this is what's best for me, but I think _this_ is what's best for me! Staying here, and building more relationships, and--" Now that you've started, you can't stop. You could convince him, you could make him understand.

_"(Y/N), I won't repeat myself--"_

"--and developing my studies and--!"

_"YOUNG LADY, YOU WILL OBEY ME THIS INSTANT!"_

All the breath seems to leave your body. Had your grip on your phone not tightened, you almost would have dropped it. You stand alone, under the illumination of a single streetlight. Father had _raised his voice at you_. He had gotten angry at you so _quickly_. The way your throat clenches, it feels as though you're choking on air. Your father is silent, save for the sound of labored breathing. It seems as though neither of you could muster up something to say. 

_"...(Y/N)?"_  
"Y-yes, sir?"  
_"I'm sorry...head back to the apartment, okay?"_ Your previously stopped heart begins to beat again as you understand the implications of his statement. The apartment, not the airport. _"You've grown up so much, I trust you to make the right choices for yourself."_

So immediately after his outburst, the change in tone gave you whiplash. His voice is tender, the way he always speaks to you, but it wasn't anywhere near as comforting. Had it just been a moment of a lost temper? He says 'I love you' and you're still too choked up to answer. After a pause, there's a click and a monotone, signaling that he hung up.

Your hand falls from your ear to your side, keeping a limp grip on the phone. You lean against the stone wall beside you in an attempt to recompose yourself. It had worked, you guess, he had allowed you to stay. That didn't stop your mind from reeling at the sheer animosity that had taken over his voice. It was hostile, almost animalistic how he had yelled. 

Scanning your surroundings, you realize that you had strayed far off of your path. The phone call must have distracted you so much, you began to wander aimlessly. You let out a tired sigh, beginning to type your address into your GPS. 

"Well, well, well, boys! Looks like we've got a stray kitten here, all alone!"

The voice is masculine, and forcibly so--like that of a high schooler trying to deepen his timbre. You're afraid to look up from your phone. You mentally weighed the possibility of them talking about an actual kitten--or at least just leaving you alone if you ignored them. However, the sound of metal tapping against the wall you were leaning on, inches from your head no less, dispelled every bit of that possibility. 

There are three of them, all varying in body shapes. It was almost comedic how drastically they contrasted one another in height, size, and even hair color. One trait that united them, however, were the bright accents of yellow decorating each of their persons. _Gang members._ The source of the tapping, you notice, was the metal crowbar in the hands of the shortest member. He's sneering at you in a predatory manner that makes you want to go take a shower. The one who had been talking wasn't him, but the lean blonde. He's way older than his voice implies. He couldn't have been that much older than you, but his jagged features and sunken eyes did little to boost his youth.

He stands closest to you, eyes scanning your frame. You say nothing, cautiously awaiting whatever it is that they wanted from you. In response to your silence, the blonde grunts in confusion, his smirk falling. "What, nothing to say? Eh, that's alright. I'll do most of the talking."

You absolutely despised how much he was invading your personal space. The sensation of his breath fanning against your skin had you clenching your fists. You're only half-listening to what he's saying, zeroing in on the two men behind him in hopes of finding a way out. 

"...and no need to introduce yourself. I know exactly who _you_ are...I gotta say, Heiwajima's got pretty good taste in women." At that, your focus snaps back to him immediately. _What on earth did he mean by that?_

"Yo Horada, you sure about this? That dude's gonna be pissed if we fuck with his girl." The tallest of them, a brawny, tan man whispers into 'Horada's' ear. He didn't do that good of a job of keeping his voice down, though. Horada swats the man's face with the back of his hand. 

"Ah, shuddup, willya? That's the point. We throw his girl around a little bit, give 'er a couple of scars. Then he _and_ that pansy colorless gang get the message not to fuck with us."

Your ears are ringing at the word 'scars'. Just what did they want to do to you? Did they really think that you were in a relationship with _Shizuo_? What did this have to do with the Dollars? A calloused hand runs across your cheek and cradles your chin, mockingly affectionate. You hadn't thought it to be possible, but Horada is even closer now, forcing you to turn your head to the side in an attempt to avoid him.

"'Sides, what kind of man leaves his chick all alone like this? Poor baby, maybe you need a real man to protect ya. Damn, I've always wondered what it's like to be with a forei--!"

You had never punched anyone in your life. As malicious as it sounded, after watching people do it on TV and seeing Shizuo in the act numerous times, you always had an itching inclination to try it. The way he was forcing himself closer to you, saying such awful things, sent that inclination boiling over the edge. Despite being out of practice, the clean contact between your knuckles and his face was immensely satisfying.

His head reels to the side at the force, followed by his neck, his shoulders, his upper body...his legs...his feet...there he goes.

You're shocked at the sight of his entire body flying a few inches. His friends are the same, staring at his crumpled body with gaping mouths. Taking their distraction as an opportunity, you start to book it. However, a large, clammy hand grabs your elbow. You're pulled back into a large, bulky body and you know that it's the tan man. Fight or flight taking over, you reel your free arm forward before elbowing him straight in the ribs. It's a foolish attempt, considering how strong he must be. Your elbow comes in contact with his firm, sturdy torso--and you can feel something snap. Your elbow continues to dig, jabbing into him with little resistance. He let's out a deep grunt and curses.

The grip on your arm loosens. Before you make a break for it, however, you're distracted by the man's coughing fit. He stumbles backward, cradling his chest. After one particularly hard cough, a splash of red appears on the pavement beneath him. Was that....blood...?

It was just you and the man with the crowbar, now, both of you staring at the disarmed forms of the two men. The blonde wasn't moving, most likely unconscious, and it seemed that the tan man was on the way there. Did these guys have health problems or something? Why were they so weak to your feeble attacks?

"You bitch!" The remaining member snaps out of it, waving his crowbar at you threateningly. By the time you've pulled yourself from your thoughts, he's lunging at you. Practically teleporting closer to you in flashes. Your body tenses, scrambling for some sort of counter to the attack, but you're thinking too slowly. The crowbar swings closer and closer to your face, headed for a possibly fatal collision.

However painful that would have been, the sound of metal screeching against metal is pretty excruciating too. The crowbar is suspended in the air, mere centimeters from your face. The one thing keeping it from knocking you out was...a blade? The short man's arms trembled, contrasting the calm, steady hand that brandished the knife. 

Your knees give out, sending you falling to the ground. The crowbar clatters to the ground in front of you, discarded by its wielder. You watch as he stumbles away, leaving the other incapacitated members of his posse behind.

"Looks like you've made quite the commotion." The low voice is muffled to your ears, like a phone call cutting in and out. You muster up the effort to look at the person standing above you, your strength rapidly depleting.

It was that same off-putting smile he had worn the first time you saw him. Eyes narrowed, focused so obviously on you that you knew he couldn't have been looking at anyone else. Seeing such a mischievous expression up close, you can't help but remember a familiar face.

That young twin with the glasses, the one who had said such outrageous, perverted things, had smiled at you the same way.

"Do you...by any chance... have a sis..." Your tongue feels like lead in your mouth, just like the rest of your body. You were suddenly so _tired...._ Technically, it had been a good 48 hours since you had a normal night of sleep. All you can do is watch as your vision flickers out, trained on the darkly dressed, smiling man above you.

That coat did look even nicer up close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any of y'all listen to sammy rae and the friends?? their new single jackie onassis came out recently and I'm OBSESSED w it and I think the vibe of it really fits the reader and this story?? a lot of their music has the vibe I'm going for actually would 10/10 recommend


	11. Defenses Are Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> s p a c e - jay squared feat. santana davinci
> 
> "her eyes got bigger they shimmered  
> like some pots of gold  
> s/he pointed at my soul  
> and then s/he took it,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all at some point i thought it was "raida academy" instead of "raira academy" and i was like 'wow weird why did i think that' but then i realize in the ANIME they say it like "raida" bc they're trying to flip the r ahahdlafahldah  
> tw: descriptions of murder

_"............Maybe if you spoke up more......"_

_".................how you're feeling.........."_

_"......hope you understand............"_

_"I wouldn't think you to be above many things, Orihara, and I was foolish to believe that kidnapping would be one of them."_

The heat that radiated onto your face would normally be therapeutic, but at the moment, it just made it hard to stay asleep. The brightness greatly aggravated the ache that swelled beneath your eyelids. Groaning, you threw your forearm over your face, turning away from whatever the source of light was. "Now look, Namie, now you've gone and woke the poor girl up!" _Namie....._ Who's Namie???

Hold on a minute, where _are_ you!?

You hastily sit up, immediately regretting the decision as your blood begins to rush at the shift in weight. You hiss, palm flying to your forehead to soothe the pulsing dizziness. Light floods your vision as you slowly open your eyes. As you gain a better understanding of your surroundings, you meet the gaze of a young woman who you definitely don't recognize. Despite the obvious look of disdain in her eyes, she's a very pretty lady. She scoffs, rolling her eyes and ending the staring contest between you two. Your stare follows her form as she walks off.

"Don't mind her. Females are often territorial when another female invades the space." Someone sits on a seat across from the couch you were laying on. You're embarrassed by the yelp you let out in surprise. It's none other than Izaya Orihara, leaning back into his chair as if it were a throne. You can only stare at him, too many thoughts swirling around your head to say anything. For example: 

_Where are you?_   
_Who is that woman?_   
_How did you get here?_   
_How long had you been asleep?_   
_Where did that lady get that gorgeous sweater?_

"You're silent, but I have a pretty good idea of what you must be thinking. Don't worry, despite what my secretary may think, I haven't kidnapped you. You're free to leave whenever you'd like." He takes a sip from the mug in his hands, humming pleasantly. "You were pretty worn out last night, so I decided to bring you here. That being said, I welcome you to my home."

You pull your feet off of the couch, swinging them onto the floor to face him. _He lived here?_ Inspecting the area, you got the impression of some sort of office, not someone's home. It was very spacious with a similar layout to your apartment, and there was a set of stairs leading up to what you assumed to be more rooms. The sheer size of the place convinced you that it was a house, but the sight of a skyline outside the window revealed that it was some sort of apartment. Being an informant must pay very well. "Thank you," you murmur, struggling to meet his gaze.

"Why, you're very welcome." His smile is lighthearted and carefree, different from any you've seen on him before. Regardless, even that grin carried an air of mischief to it that set you on edge. The two of you sit in silence as he enjoys his coffee. 

"You're...Izaya Orihara?" you finally ask. He chuckles, finally setting down the mug. 

"Yes, I am. You've heard of me." It's not a question, but a statement. Nonetheless, you nod dumbly, disconcerted by the man's attention on you. You'd hate to just sit here and ask questions, but there were so many to be asked.

"Do you know who I am?" His laughter is louder at that, head tilted back haughtily. Your gaze is glued to your lap in embarrassment. Perhaps it was a stupid question. Why would he know about someone as insignificant as you? Informants worked with the police force and the mafia and--

"(Y/N) Brigall." Your eyes snap back to him in an instant. "Also known as that one fashionably dressed foreign woman, also known as the new addition to Kadota's gang, also known as the woman who withstood a hit from _the_ Shizuo Heiwajima, also known as the woman who went on to steal his heart."

Your cheeks are burning as the list continues. So he did know quite a bit. "M-most of those are just weird rumors, I swear!" you sputter, shrinking under his teasing stare. He shakes his head, smiling into his coffee mug as he takes another sip. The pause in the conversation has you reeling, itching to defend yourself further.

"No worries, I'm sure they are. We information brokers have a good eye for discerning what's a silly fallacy--and what's the solid truth." His eyes narrow at the latter half of his statement and you feel as though you might shrink right where you're sitting. It's surreal; sitting there, staring at him in awkward silence. Seeing him up close like this, you didn't know what to do with yourself. He wasn't that different from Shizuo in that people treated him like some sort of urban legend. They were enemies, weren't they? Should you even be here?

He didn't give off bad vibes, per se, but you felt so skittish in his presence. You noticed it, how he had been scanning your every move from the moment that he woke up. There was no telling what he was capable of, not after what he had done with that knife the night before. What would he be willing to do with his secretary sitting a mere few feet away? 

"Namie, would you mind preparing our guest some tea?" Your eyebrows raise. Before you could tell him no, there was no need for that, the woman was surprisingly already headed to the kitchen. You're embarrassed by how mesmerized you are by her movements. What brought such a graceful woman here, to be involved in such a devious field of work? She silently sets a mug down in front of you. Even when you thank her, her expression remains indifferent.

"May I ask where you got that sweater?" The widening of her eyes is barely noticeable. The momentary break in her cool facade gives you a little bit of hope. She pinches a bit of the sweater's fabric, inspecting it thoughtfully. "I'm not sure...I've had it for a while." There's a flatness to her voice, but it's music to your ears all the same.

"It's lovely. Looks great with your skirt, too. The combination of greens and reds is such an underrated color scheme, in my opinion." It takes effort to stop yourself from going into another one of your rants. Her face has softened from the glower that had previously inhabited it. It's not a smile, but there's no contempt, which you could deal with. "Thank you," she says simply, leaving you with your tea to return to her desk.

"Enchanting, isn't she?" Izaya regains your attention. Bashfulness wells up in your chest; he probably had you all figured out. "Unfortunately, winning her heart would be a difficult task...she's devoted all of its room to her younger brother." He speaks so brazenly about her, as if she's not even in the room. "How sweet," you nod in understanding, keeping your voice low in an attempt to be polite. Sometimes family was most important. You respected that. Izaya has revealed his eccentricity in the small moment that you had been there. You could only imagine what he must be like as a boss. She must have incredibly thick skin.

As you begin sipping on the tea(it was delicious), Izaya leaves you for a moment. Peeking over your shoulder, you sneakily watch him search through his desk drawers. He returns holding a manila folder, crossing his legs in his chair as he peruses its contents. "I hope you don't mind if I get some work done," he says, not at all apologetic. You shake your head no, quietly enjoying your tea as he works. Your eyes are trained on his face, taking in every detail; the furrow of his brow, the concentrated look in his eye, the downturn at the corners of his mouth the moment he stops addressing you. The same enigmatic air that radiated off of Namie radiated off of him tenfold. It didn't help that he himself was a pretty attractive guy. You were drawn to him, as much as you hated to admit it.

What were you still doing here, anyway? You woke up in this man's apartment--this man who Shizuo despised, who your friends had told you very clearly to _stay away from--_ and here you were, enjoying a cup of tea with him. What if he had poisoned it? What if there was some form of sedative in it, and the moment you fell asleep, he would kidnap you for real...

"It's rude to stare." Oh boy, you know. It was a major bad habit of yours. You clear your throat in a pathetic attempt to hide the fact that you had obviously been gawking at him. 

"Just...wondering what you're working on..." you lie. It's only after he raises a brow at you that you realize how intrusive that was. Really?? The guy was an informant! He wasn't exactly going to post his work all over the channel 9 news!! "J-Just wondering, though! You don't have to tell me, of course--that's why I was just keeping it to myself." Wow, this tea was really good!! Good enough to just bury your face into the comedically large cup. Maybe if you go deep enough, you won't be able to tell the difference between the steam of the tea and the steam blowing out of your ears!

"I'm looking into this cold case to see if it can aid me in servicing one of my clients." Was he actually telling you? You hadn't expected an informant to have such a loose tongue. Peeking out from behind the teacup, you notice how his body is directed and open to you, his forearms rested against his knees and upper body leaned towards you. The folder was discarded onto the table, wide open for your viewing pleasure. All you had to do was peek. "Are you interested in true crime at all, (Y/N)?"

"Actually, I do watch a lot of crime TV shows!" You're bolstered by your familiarity with the topic. A real-life cold case was a different realm from the fantastical plotlines you watched on TV, but it had to be close enough, right?

"Now that I think about it, you may be of service to me. You see, this case occurred in the same country you're visiting from--at least...where I _assume_ you're visiting from." Oh, he knew. He really doesn't put any effort into covering it up. There was no reason to, you guess. It was natural that information would be so accessible to him. It didn't bother you--you liked to think that you were an open book, with nothing to hide. You had no dark secrets or blackmail material. As you thought about it, you grew less apprehensive. He couldn't really do anything to you, could he? Sitting in front of you, having discarded that heavy coat, he looked smaller. He didn't have bulging muscles or broad shoulders. The coat had made him appear larger, at least by a little bit. If it had been intentional, you were impressed.

What other kinds of information could he find? How much could he find out about people's lives, their secrets, their personal affairs, their pasts....

"Well, I never did pay much attention to the news, so I don't know much about real cases, but I don't mind trying." Now that you thought about it, you had never sat down and watched the news. Your father never had cable TV on in the house and you always watched your shows through streaming services.

"How about the _Three of a Kind Murders_? That sound familiar?" He's retrieved the folder now, sifting through the different materials it held. You shake your head no, already sensing that you wouldn't be as helpful as you'd hoped. "That's quite alright. I'll give you some background. Four years ago, January 25th, four families lost their daughters. It was in a wealthy, upstanding part of town, so of course, everyone was horrified. The case even gained traction at a national level. However, the culprit has yet to be found."

He described it so matter-of-factly, yet it still sent a chill down your spine. To an extent, you could handle such gruesome topics in TV shows, but the idea that this was a real event--a recent one at that--rubbed you the wrong way. Even so, curiosity ate away at you, and you found yourself growing more interested in the event. "Is it certain that they were murders? And why the name _Three of a Kind_??"

"Oh yes, it's a fact that the girls were murdered. In fact, the name _Three of a Kind_ refers to how they were all killed in different ways. A bit morbid if you ask me."

"And how is that?" His eyebrow raises once more. You shrink in your seat, embarrassed by how eagerly you had asked the question. "Th-that is....how did they die?" A chuckle bubbles from his mouth. You notice how he stifles it in an attempt to stop himself from devolving into full out laughter.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect you to be interested in such _grotesque_ details...It was quite the bloodbath, really. One drowned, one strangled, and one stabbed multiple times...that last one was probably the most grisly of them all. It was concluded that the murder weapon was a kitchen knife from the same house they had been killed in, but interestingly enough, it was never found."

You wondered what the girls looked like. In the TV shows you watched, the victims were always angelic and sunny-faced. When the person lost is a beautiful young woman, it makes it all the more tragic. They must have lived such pleasant lives and had such bright futures. Even four years later, you can feel your own heart aching over it. Those poor families.

"I was able to dig up photos from the crime scene, as well as some other materials. Would you like to see?" He pulls out a sheet from the folder, holding it so that you could only see the blank white back. Your eyes could burn holes through the paper with how intensely you stare at it. You're silent, eyeing the paper pensively as Izaya patiently awaits your answer. You blink rapidly and shake your head, surprised by how much you were considering it. Looking at _crime scene_ _photos?_ That would be horrible!

"No, I'm fine, thank you," your voice quivers more than you'd like it to. Becoming aware of the teacup still in your hands, you notice how cold it's gotten. _What a waste..._ Taking it as a sign, you clear your throat and stand, leaving the cup on the coffee table. "I'd hate to overstay my welcome. Thank you for your hospitality."

"It's no problem at all."

All of your instincts are telling you to leave right now. The man was involved in a whole different world that you don't want anything to do with. You should just scurry out of that apartment, head straight home, and never come back again. In spite of that, you just stood there, eyes glued to his courteous smile that so distinctly clashed with the look in his eye. Your feet felt like weights, forcing you to stay in place.

You had to ask him something...something that you could possibly come to regret.

"How good would you be...at doing background checks...l-like learning about a person's history?" It's hard to word such an odd request correctly. The man hums, leaning back in his chair and scratching his chin.

"Well, it depends on just how well-hidden that person's history is. I will say, though, that I'm such a trusted source for a reason." _I've been told otherwise, but okay._

"Would it be possible...I mean yeah, I guess it would--to do one of those...c-could you do one on me?" Topics regarding your past quickly became a sore subject in your household. Whenever you tried to bring it up and ask anything about it, your father would get oh so sad. You assumed it was remorse that he couldn't have done anything to save you or your memory, and mentioning the past was only a bitter reminder. As a result, you seized questioning any further for the sake of your father's mental health. That didn't mean that every moment you spent in the dark wasn't plagued with incessant curiosity. It was too painful for Father to tell you and that was fine--you would just need to find out another way...

"Now, why would you need me to do something like that?" he laughs, way too relaxed for your liking. This was business now.

"As long as everything goes well, you should be able to find that out." You find it in you to be more assertive. "I'm willing to pay whatever you require."

The intensity in his eyes has returned as he stares you down. You couldn't help but feel as though he was daring you, like you wouldn't follow through with the arrangement. He was underestimating you. Now more determined, you return his gaze head-on. "Well?"

"I'm not one to turn down business. I'll tell you what, I'll see what I can find and you come back in a night or so. We'll discuss your payment then."

That was easy. So much easier than you expected, that you don't know what else to say. It takes every muscle in your body not to thank him. He wasn't doing you a favor. You were going to pay him. This was business. Instead, you simply nod for closure. Now, your feet are ready to do their jobs, carrying you to the front door. It feels odd, silently making an exit, so you turn back to the other two in the room. Your gaze flickers between him and Namie, who actually bothers to look up at you from her computer. 

"G-Good day," you stammer, before hurrying out the door because _wow 'good day'????? You were doomed. Truly._

* * *

_**Taro Tanaka:** I've seen tons more Yellow Scarves hanging around lately....  
 **Kanra:** Me too!  
 **Kanra:** With all that bright yellow, they're so much easier to spot than the Dollars!  
 **Sora:** Something tells me they don't mind that...  
 **Setton:** Yeah, they've been around for a while.  
 **Setton:** But lately they seem kinda different!  
 **Sora:** Different, huh?  
 **Taro Tanaka:** What do you mean?  
 **Setton:** I can't say for sure  
 **Setton:** Something has clearly changed though...  
 **Setton:** I guess....  
 **Setton:** It seems like this is the most violent that they've ever been.  
_

Resting your chin in your hand, you ponder the meaning behind Setton's message. It makes sense. After all, the Yellow Scarves hadn't been much of an issue when you first came to Ikebukuro. They had only made a resurgence just recently. A shudder racks your body as you recall the previous night's events, how the man Horada had threatened you in such a disgusting manner.

_**Saika** has entered the chat._

**_Taro Tanaka:_ ** _Oh hey there, Saika! How are ya?  
 **Sora:** Hello, Saika!  
 **Kanra:** Greetings!  
 **Setton:** Welcome!  
 **Saika:** Hi, everyone  
 **Saika:** Um, I'm sorry...  
 **Taro Tanaka:** What are you sorry for?  
 **Kanra:** It's easy to catch a virus when you're so new to the net.  
 **Kanra:** That's what caused all of that rambling before, right?  
 **Kanra:** It's not like you could help it!  
 **Sora:** Yes, no worries.  
_

You had to force yourself to believe such an easy explanation. Of course, this Saika was acting completely different from the one that had appeared before. However, the way it had talked so specifically, especially about you and Shizuo, it was hard to believe that it was some sort of crazy virus. Despite your apprehensions, you try to be welcoming to this new Saika. It's not too difficult. Even through mere text, she comes off as so meek and apologetic. It honestly reminds you of a certain little friend of yours.

 _**Kanra:** _ _By the way, Saika, have you ever heard of a gang called the Yellow Scarves?  
 **Saika:** You mean all those people walking around in yellow bandanas?  
 **Kanra:** Yeah, those guys! There's a group out there that's pretty similar to them. They call themselves the Dollars.  
 **Kanra:** And now because of that whole Slasher thing that terrified everybody....  
 **Kanra:** There's some serious tension going on between those two!  
 **Saika:**...what do you mean by that?  
 **Sora:** Hey now, that's no way to greet a newbie.   
**Sora:** Let's talk about something fun and cool, so she doesn't leave our sorry asses._

You giggle childishly at the swear word. It was all harmless fun to take on Sora as a different persona. It was true though, that you were irked by Kanra's remarks. They seemed so pointed, as if she meant to tease Saika. Maybe she hadn't believed the whole virus thing either--but to bother her about it? That's just rude. Setton sends a message agreeing with you and you smile. It had occurred to you after the night of the slashing incident that Celty had to be someone in this chatroom. While Setton was believed by everyone to be male, he reminded you of her the most. 

_**Kanra:** What!! I disagree...  
 **Kanra:** Everyone living in Ikebukuro should know this!! I mean, the Slasher's still out there somewhere...  
 **Kanra:** Both the Yellow Scarves and the Dollars have people that got hit!  
 **Kanra:** And each side is completely convinced that the other group is behind it all!  
 **Sora:** Eh, I think you're exaggerating as always, Kanra  
 **Taro Tanaka:** Yeah, it doesn't seem to me like the Dollars are making a big deal about it.  
 **Taro Tanaka:** Everyone's just confused because neither side knows each other.  
_

You huff as Kanra continues her antics, raving about rising tensions and gang wars. Really, did this woman have any tact at all? She was a friend, you suppose, but you find her obsession with gossip to be utterly distasteful. It was her that had started the chat in the first place, though, so there wasn't much that you could do about it. There's a brief pause in the influx of messages before Saika breaks the silence. However, there's something about her message that's strange to you.

_**Saika:** Okay, thanks for the tip.  
_

What did she mean by that? Was she thanking Kanra for giving her that information? _Weird..._ After Setton and Saika turn in for the night, the conversation seems to die down, so you take your leave as well. You roll backward in your desk chair, sighing in annoyance. Kanra always found a way to say things that made your head hurt. Like, of course tensions were rising, we all know that, no need to make a big deal about it! Really, you were all wound up at the reminder of the men who had attacked you. After all, nothing was stopping them from coming at you a second time. It was a miracle you had even gotten out of it the first time!

You had been in Ikebukuro for a month and you had already been attacked two times--three if you count Shizuo's lovely street sign of death. At this rate, you were gonna be on the back of a milk carton by November. Oddly enough, the apparent danger that came with living in the city didn't deter your enthusiasm towards it. On the contrary, it invigorated you more than anything. The issue was that you were walking a fine line between living a life of adventure and not living at all. Perhaps you should brush up on some self-defense techniques...? How exactly would you do that?

You haphazardly scroll through self defense videos on the internet, mostly just to pass the time. As you continue browsing and even watching a few, however, you begin to actually consider it. After all, the probability that no one else was going to mess with you during the rest of your stay here was looking pretty low. Hooking up your phone to your living room TV, you surf the internet before coming across a series of instructional videos. The quality was grainy, indicating the age of said series. It had to have been filmed in the 80's at the very latest. Regardless, the reviews were full of relatively positive reactions. As the intro flashes across the screen, you immediately burst out laughing. It was entirely too flamboyant and definitely warranted a strobe light warning. Despite its hilarity, the video was actually very informative.

The hours passed surprisingly quickly as you embarked on a marathon. Even when you took a break to eat, you sat on the couch and watched intently as the instructor taught you how to incapacitate someone who had a firearm. Occasionally, you rose to your feet, acting out the different motions in hopes that muscle memory would take its course. However, doing them all on your own felt a little awkward. Practicing with a partner would definitely help a lot more--but who would ever be willing to just stand there and let you beat the crap out of them? 

Shizuo, bless his heart, was instantly out of the question. He'd probably be willing to, but you can't help but worry about his strength. Erika would be a suitable candidate, but she doesn't seem to be the most fighting-savvy. The same could be said for Walker. You don't think you could be violent towards Anri if you tried. No offense to Mikado and Masaomi, but their teen bodies are drastically different from anyone who you'd have to fight off. You're scrolling through your contact list now, contemplating each name before counting them out and moving to the next. The search is starting to seem fruitless as you draw closer and closer to the bottom of the list. However, at the sight of one name, you regain an ounce of hope. Calling the contact's number, you cross your fingers that the hope would be validated.

_"Yo."_

"Hey, Kyohei? I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i rly like namie hahahahaahaahah


	12. Temperature Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> flesh & bone - sammy rae & the friends
> 
> "but i need to know, i don't need to be shown  
>  i've gotta see it for myself, i've gotta learn it on my own  
>  i need to know if i am flesh & bone and am i still growing or full grown?,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hohohohoooo i lOVE ME SOME BOSSMAN KADOTA  
> also saburo is 5'5"?????? okay short king

" _Woah_ , Kyohei, you did all of this?"

Your voice echoes off of the walls of the oddly large bathroom. Trying to find Kyohei in this building was like navigating a labyrinth. The rest of the place was clearly unfinished, still covered in plastic tarps. You stared in wonder at the black and white checkered walls. Kyohei's perched high on some sort of ladder. He holds a black tile in his hand, coating the back of it with a gray paste before sticking it to the wall. 

"Yeah, one sec. I'm almost done."

You're happy to watch as he fills in the remaining small spaces in the wall. He was clearly very skilled, making for a very satisfying spectacle. There was a certain art to it, you thought. After all, you could only imagine the thought and calculation that went into placing each and every tile. Though you had to admit, it was a pretty strange design for a bathroom. Kyohei jumps down from the latter, grunting as he stretches out his back. "Been at this for pretty long, huh?" you tease, removing your backpack and setting it down on the floor in front of you. You sit on the bottom step of the stairwell you had just descended from.

"Eh, nothing I'm not used to. What'd you bring?" He drags a small stool over with him and sits on it, right across from you. You eagerly open your backpack, rummaging through it before pulling out two plastic food containers. You hand one to him, eyes trained on his face as he opens it. Kyohei wasn't an emotionless or stoic guy, per se, but it was rare to see him express himself too openly. His posture was usually relaxed, mouth in a straight line, and eyes dulled by the shadow of his hat. 

Not even the beanie could hide how his eyes widened. He was silent for a moment, staring at the contents of the container. You're holding your breath, wondering what he might say, or if he would say anything at all. One of his signature huff laughs has you internally sighing in relief. It doesn't stop there, unfolding into a chuckle, then a hearty laugh. You stop breathing again, but for a different reason. He had been happy before, sure, but like this, he looked outright joyful. You don't even care about whether or not he was laughing at you, this man was breathtaking.

You clear your throat and do your best to hide your burning face because _woah you need to calm down._

"I'm sorry," he sighs, finally calming down. "I don't think I've had one of these since I was in school."

As a thank you for agreeing to aid you in your makeshift 'training', you wanted to do something special from the man. He mentioned getting something to eat after his shift. That's when you had the idea to make and bring something for him. It took some research and shopping the next day, but you managed to put together a couple of cute little bento boxes. You had even managed to find some boxes with little bear faces on them! Maybe it wasn't the most appropriate considering who you were preparing them for, but such a good find could not go to waste. Of course, Kyohei's wasn't quite as little. He was a grown man, after all, he needed his food!

You had gotten a little carried away with the tutorials, and it was only after you had cut a good five apples into bunny shapes before you realized that you were following instructions for a children's bento box. "Where did you even find this?" he asks, picking up one of said bunnies in his fingers and inspecting it.

"Actually, I made them..." you admit bashfully, escaping eye contact by staring at your own food. "I haven't prepared much of my own food since I got here, so I wanted give it a shot. Sorry if it's not exactly like what you used to have. I did my best with what I could learn on the internet." Your confidence depletes the more you talk and you find yourself wanting to explain yourself further. Cooking was definitely not your forte. What if you ended up giving him food poisoning and he never talks to you again?? Any internal goading you have going on is instantly dissipated when you see Kyohei's smile. He picks up a slice of the egg salad sandwich and takes a bite out of it.

"This is great! What, are you just going to sit there? You went to all that trouble to make it." Realizing how creepy you must have looked, you stuff an apple into your mouth in embarrassment. You both silently enjoyed your meals. Not to toot your own horn, you did pretty good. It was a bit of a cop-out to choose a sandwich, one of the most similar foods to what you ate back home--but hey, neither of you were complaining. You offer to let Kyohei keep the cute little box, but he respectfully declines--although you could see the consideration in his eyes.

"So, what's with this self-defense kick all of a sudden?" he asks, handing you the empty box so you can put it into your backpack. "No one's picking on you, are they?"

You hesitate to answer. He sounded so nonchalant, as if he wasn't at all expecting the truthful answer. "Not consistently, no..." He sees something obviously wrong with that answer, eyebrows knitting together in suspicion. 

"But?" he presses. The sudden gravity in his voice is subtle, but you still pick up on it. You never pegged Kyohei as the type to do anything stupid or rash, but he was still the type of guy to be protective of his friends. You admired that about him.

"Well, you know about the whole Slasher thing...but recently I got into another little scuffle." It was not little. You still get tense wondering what it is that they were going to do to you. Obviously, Kyohei wasn't going to let you be vague here.

"A 'scuffle' with whom?" The hem of your shorts is really interesting to you at this moment. There was something about telling him the whole truth that was difficult to you. All you could think about were Kanra's messages from the other night. How would this affect the relationship between the Yellow Scarves and the Dollars? Regardless, you could tell that Kyohei wasn't going to let up until you gave him names.

"Just some punks from the Yellow Scarves. They thought that if they messed with me, they'd be able to get to Shizuo _and_ the Dollars for some reason. I mean, that's crazy, right?" You force yourself to laugh. 

He's silent for a moment. He reminds you of a dad in those TV shows where his kid comes home after curfew and he only says 'I'm not mad, just disappointed.' The sigh he lets out after a while really sells it. "Remember what I said a while back? About this stuff being dangerous and unfair?"

"Oh, don't 'I told you so' me!" you pout. "It's not like I didn't agree with you. Besides, I got out of there pretty much unscathed." 

"How many of them were there?"

"Just three. One of them seemed to be a sort of ring leader. Some blonde dude. Flo-Rida?? Horila?? Something like that." You were being dodgy about the guy's name on purpose, but Kyohei didn't need to know that. Kyohei sighs what is probably his ten-billionth sigh ever. He stands, picking up his stool and moving it to another side of the room. "Alright, show me what you've learned."

With only a day and a quarter of practice, you were still pretty rusty, but Kyohei helped you through it. Once you had to get close to him, your brain, admittedly, started to short circuit. The two of you ended up watching a couple of the videos you had pulled up on your phone. You reenacted the different moves slowly, and Kyohei even gave you a few pointers of his own; whether or not the scenario was realistic, and if the method would actually work. You soaked up as much of the advice as you could, happy you had come to the right person. 

Eventually, you stop to take a break. Kyohei's not out of shape by any means, but it's super muggy in this bathroom, and he is draped head to toe in clothes. "I don't get why you insist on wearing that suffocating clothing all the time. You're obviously burning up," you jest, watching as he wipes the sweat off of his brow. He grunts, sitting beside you on the floor.

"You do know it's October, right?"

"So what you're saying is, when it gets hot, you'll take that hat off?"

"Wha--and what if I don't?" Bewilderment is a cute look on him. You always wondered about his odd attachment to that beanie. It was fine, you guess, but after seeing him without it, you couldn't wrap your head around why he'd want to hide himself like that. Maybe even the 'bossman' himself had insecurities. You could help him with that if he'd let you.

"Hmmm, I don't know. I guess I'd just have to..." In a flash, you're standing over him. "Do it for you!" You snag the fabric of his hat between your fingers, removing it with a single tug. He's at a loss for words, staring at you with wide eyes (that you could see much better now). You cackle at the look of absolute astonishment on his face, making a move to scurry away. However, something catches between your feet, sending you toppling over.

"Hey, quit messin' around!" he grumbles, closing in on you in pursuit of his hat. With both of you on the ground, you both have to crawl around each other. It may be annoying for him but it's hilarious for you. You're so riddled with laughter that your movements are clumsy. At one point, he catches you by the leg, sending you to the ground again. You turn onto your back so you can see him better, only to find him leaning over you. He's reaching for the beanie, held in the hand you had above your head--not realizing the position he's put you both in.

It wasn't the first time the two of you had been in that position. In fact, you notice how similar it was to one of the scenarios you acted out. In a moment of opportunism, you lift your hips, effectively knocking him off of his balance. He's definitely stronger than you, but in this moment, he was vulnerable. You wrap your arms around his torso, clinging to him like a Koala, before quickly rolling over. It was honestly hit or miss whether it'd be enough to transfer both his and your weight, especially considering the fact that he wasn't playing along at this moment. To both his and your surprise, you're able to flip him onto his back with you now on top of him.

Now both of you are out of breath, halted in your positions as you tried to regain your cool. You can't help but start to laugh again, adrenaline sending you into a bit of a giddy fit. "Guess that technique does work after all, huh?" you say, looking down at him. However, at the sight of his face, you're struck speechless. You had seen a lot of new sides of Kyohei today; his laughter, his surprise, but this one was your favorite, you think. It was subtle among the tan of his skin, but from the close proximity, you could easily see the flush in his face. "Hey, are you okay?? You're not too hot, are you?" you asked. He doesn't answer, and in his silence, you finally hear the sound of approaching voices. Very familiar voices.

"Hey, Dotachin, you in here?"

"This place is like a maze, these directions you gave us don't make sense at--Woah!" You have no clue how Walker does that thing with his eyes. Your contemplation on the nature of his facial anatomy is interrupted by Kyohei, who sits up and gently pushes you off of him. "Hey guys! You all ready to head out?" You greet them as usual, smiling brightly at the sight of your good friends. Walker and Erika return the favor, but there is something off about them. Saburo won't even make eye contact with you. You turn to Kyohei in hopes of finding some sort of understanding, but he's no better than Saburo. _Huh. How weird..._

* * *

"I just never pictured Dotachin to be the catcher..." Erika seems to believe that by holding a hand over her mouth, she can keep everyone but Walker from hearing her, even if she continued to speak at full volume.

"Hey, wouldja shut up already??" Kyohei snaps at the two of them.

"I don't get it, is Kyohei into baseball, or...?" you mutter to Saburo, who only shakes his head. You notice a red flush on his face. "Just don't listen to anything those guys are saying. _At all,_ " he says back. You were all hanging out in the parking lot outside of the building. The odd atmosphere had dissipated, but Saburo and Kyohei were still a little standoffish, and Erika and Walker kept talking about things that you couldn't really understand (that last part was pretty normal, though). Regardless, you're just happy to be hanging out with your friends for a little longer. The smell of the oncoming storm in the air is soothing to you, so you lean against the side of the van, next to its open door. Erika sits with her legs dangling out the side, now discussing another manga with Walker, who stood in front of you both. You listen silently, trying your best to follow along with the confusing conversation.

"Listen, the moment the creators of the series _confirm_ these crazy theories you have about their relationship, I will be the first to entertain the idea."

"But that ruins their entire chemistry, Yummach!! The whole appeal of their relationship is its ambiguity!!"

You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket and sneak a peek at it, assuming that your two friends would be too busy to mind.

 **UNKNOWN NUMBER  
** _It's been long enough since your last visit. If you can come today, I'd like to discuss your payment._

The next message is an address outside of Ikebukuro. As cryptic as it was, you had a pretty good idea as to who it could be. Making sure that Walker and Erika are still distracted, you sneakily send a message back.

 **ME** _  
I'll be there soon._

"Kyohei."

You're all taken off guard by the new voice, turning to see who it is. In front of Kyohei stood Masaomi. Just by looking at the boy, you could tell that something was off. The grave demeanor he had during your hangout at Russia's Sushi had only intensified. The gang had told you about their familiarity with the Raira Trio, and you all even crossed paths occasionally--but Masaomi had never intentionally sought them out, and certainly not by himself. Where were the others anyway?

"You came back," Kyohei says. Masaomi nods earnestly, obviously understanding the statement more than you did. 

"I did. Let's talk somewhere private."

You are deeply confused and looking at everyone else, it seemed like you were the only one. Saburo, Erika, and Walker all eyed the boy, uncharacteristically dour. There was a situation that everyone here was aware of, except for you. You are reminded of your first escapade with the van gang at Russia's Sushi and how, at the mention of Masaomi's name, everyone had this same look on their faces. It didn't help how their gazes were not-so-subtly flickering in your direction. Masaomi's eyes meet yours, presumedly for the first time since he had shown up. It's like watching a lightbulb turn on, how instantly his face changes. 

"Oh, hey there, (Y/N)! Didn't see you there. Thanks again for the sushi date, you sure know how to treat a fella!" His smile, the light in his eyes, it's all so obviously forced. You wonder what other times that smile was a facade--a facade that he had to put up around you. Ignoring the despair in your chest, you wave at the boy.

"Hey, Masaomi. Good to see you." You maneuver out of your place between Walker and Erika, approaching Masaomi and standing beside him. "I actually have to bail, now. I really lost track of time! It was fun hanging with you guys, as always."

"You sure you don't want us to drop you off? It's raining," Kyohei offers. His words are reinforced by the feeling of water sprinkling your face. It was a light drizzle now, but it was bound to get worse. As much as you'd like to avoid getting hypothermia, you didn't want to deter whatever serious conversation they were about to have. Not to mention, you were reluctant to reveal to them what you were really up to. 

"Nah, I love the rain! See you guys later." You spare one last glance at Masaomi before you leave. The light had already disappeared. It was heartbreaking, seeing so much weight on a kid. 

Whatever he was dealing with, maybe Kyohei and the others would be able to get him through it.

* * *

"Wow, you really meant soon, huh?" Izaya smirks at your drenched form. He sits in the same place you had left him, sipping on yet another mug. You're almost angry at how cozy he looks. Something fuzzy appears in your peripheral. It's Namie, holding out a towel. On the inside, you’re swooning. You gratefully accept it, thanking the woman. The fabric feels like heaven against your dripping face. 

Once you're certain that you won't leave wet footprints all over the floor, you meet Izaya at the couch. Out of courtesy, you set the towel down before you sit. His eyes scan your form before he laughs. You wish that the man would at least try to hide his amusement at the sight of you. Your fingers anxiously scratch against the damp denim of your shorts. "So...how's it going?"

"Hm? Oh, I've been fine. I decided to stay in today after checking the forecast." You huff at his answer. This guy was one smug pain in the butt. 

"N-no, I mean...Nice to hear you're having a good day, but...how is the _job_ going?"

"I see." His jovial smile drops as he puts down the mug. The change in demeanor has you fidgeting terribly. You don't know which is worse, his smugness or his gravity. "I have to admit, it's a bit more difficult than I expected. I rarely extend my services to foreign affairs, so I'm still adjusting to the cultural barrier."

You don't want to admit how disappointed you are. Ever since you had made the request, you had really gotten your hopes up. You had spent the past year disregarding the past, choosing to simply look forward to all of the new memories you could make. However, now that you finally had an opportunity to learn more, you found yourself wondering just what kind of history you had. Just how large of a part of yourself had you lost?

"Aw, no need to look so sullen!" Guess your expressions were more revealing than you thought. "I'm certainly not giving up. It'll just take a little while longer. I understand that this must be important to you, so I'll provide a few forms of compensation for the wait." Your ears perk at the term 'compensation'. 

"Compensation...?"

"Of course! I care about the satisfaction of my clients, after all." He leaves his chair and goes over to his desk. "First off, I'll be sure to cut you a good rate for your payment. I know my services can be a little pricy, and you _are_ a young woman, so I don't mind making it a little easier." You're honestly a little offended. None of that really mattered, especially considering the fact that you could probably cover his normal price. However, you decide not to press, since it was basically your father's money that you were spending. As you decide this, you suddenly make eye contact with Namie, who seemed to be taking a break from cleaning. Her eyes were trained on you, narrowed and filling you with a feeling that you couldn't describe. Her gaze then moves to something behind you, most likely her boss. What was going on with her? Suddenly, she returns to her cleaning, just as Izaya returns from his place at the desk. 

"I'd also like to offer you this," he says, setting something down in front of you. It was a manila folder, similar to the one he had been looking through during your first visit. Upon closer inspection, you realized that it _was_ the folder that he had been looking through. You eye him cautiously, hesitating to even touch the folder. He doesn't seem offended, continuing to smile at you as he leans over your shoulder. The way he stays behind you has you skittish. "I noticed how interested you were in this case the last time that we talked. I've learned all that I needed from it, so I thought I'd lend it to you. There are some riveting aspects that I never told you about."

Of course he noticed that. He wasn't wrong, you had even found yourself wondering about it hours ago. You stare at the folder, wondering what it is about its contents that you'd find so interesting. After a moment, you finally pick it up, accepting his offer. He is visibly pleased by this. "Great! Well, that's all I had to discuss with you, so if you don't mind!" You're put off by such a blunt send-off, but you don't think so much into it. This meeting _was_ just for business after all.

”I was in a car crash a year ago.” Your lips are moving faster than you can register. There’s a silence from the man behind you. Anxious from the lack of response, you look over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him. He’s lips are pressed into a straight line—it’s such a short flash that you almost don’t notice it, but you _swear_ that his mouth had been a smirk a mere second before. 

“Is that so?” You don’t know what reaction you were expecting. Still, motivated by his engagement, you continue.

”I was in a car crash a year ago, and I lost my memory. All I know is that I’m (Y/N) Brigall, 19, adopted daughter of Dr. Neville Brigall. So please, understand what this means to me...I’m sure there are records somewhere, right? News articles, adoption papers, anything....” You’ve managed to choke yourself up. How embarrassing. Taking deep breaths through your nose, you rush to compose yourself. A thin, pale hand rests itself on your shoulder. Izaya smiles at you, and through your blurry vision, it almost looks genuine.

“I will find exactly what you’re looking for,” he promises. If you close your eyes and listen to just his voice, you could find all the sincerity that you need. You finally stand, grimacing at how your clothes were still damp.

As you make your way to the door, he calls out to you. Amongst the spacious room, his voice echoes off of the walls. "I just hope you don't lose sleep over this...perhaps you simply lived such a boring, ordinary life that there's not much to find!"

You don't what it is about his words that don't sit right with you, but you find yourself gaping in offence. You practically whirl around to face him, mouth fixed to say something, anything--you don't know what. However, your tongue stops as your eyes meet his. There it was, that smile--the smile that, on his own, could be perceived as courteous and welcoming. When paired with those narrowed, audacious eyes, however, it carried a whole different meaning that you didn't want to understand. Driven by the shudder traveling down your spine, you quickly exit, not bothering to say any goodbyes. You lean against the door, sighing in frustration. You had really gotten yourself into something messy, huh? 

"(Y/N)?"

You gasp as you realize that someone is standing in front of you. As you travel down the mental list of people that you hope aren't looking at you right now, you realize that it's a very long list. Honestly, it's just a list of every person that you know. No matter what, when you open your eyes and look at this person, you were going to dread it. Despite this, you're still surprised at the sight of Masaomi, gaping at you. Staring into his wide eyes, you're at a loss for words. You don't know what you could possibly do to explain yourself. The way his fists are starting to clench certainly doesn't help.

You're internally berating yourself as you rush past him, never saying a word. What could you say?? You were caught messing with this man--this man who had probably done things to upset a lot of people. How could you possibly justify that? The further you get from him, the faster you move, eventually running until you've completely left the building. Why was he there? He was just with the others, wasn't he? Even under the cool rain, the burning in your face won't let up, persisting through your entire walk home.

You messed up.

* * *

_**Kanra:** _ _You guys hear?  
**Kanra:** The Dollars and Yellow Scarves went at it again!  
**Taro Tanaka:** Man, again?  
**Setton:** Scary...  
**Sora:** This is getting old!  
_ _**Taro Tanaka:** Another scuffle, right?  
**Kanra:** Actually, this time, the Dollars hit the Yellow Scarves at their own HQ (°ロ°) !  
**Setton:** A little bold of them, isn't it?  
**Kanra:** Yeah!  
**Kanra:** You know the Headless Rider?  
**Kanra:** Apparently, it teamed up with the Slasher--and together they attacked the Yellow Scarves at their secret hideout!_

Out of every single thing you have heard Kanra say, you'd say that you'd believe about 15% of it. She always says such ridiculous things, you wonder if she'll ever quit. Why on Earth would Celty involve herself in all of this gang mess? Not to mention the fact that you watched her slam a Slasher in the face with the wheel of her motorcycle. There's no reason at all to team up with it.

_**Setton:** Uh...  
**Kanra:** Something wrong, Setton?  
**Taro Tanaka:** That can't be true.  
**Taro Tanaka:** I can't believe that, even from you, Kanra.  
**Taro Tanaka:** That's way too absurd (´• ω •`)_

**_Saika_ ** _has joined the chat._

You, Taro, and Setton make a silent, mutual agreement not to share Kanra's antics with Saika, making up some imaginary special effects movie and raving about it. Kanra tries to deflect it, but you three win out due to strength in numbers. Saika seems to take the recommendation to heart, saying that she'll check it out. That lie is going to fall through very soon, but at least you managed to change the subject. At least, that's what you thought.

 _ **Kanra:** By the way...  
**Kanra:** I heard this crazy rumor.  
**Sora:** What a surprise...  
**Kanra:** So mean!! 。゜゜(´Ｏ`) ゜゜。  
_ _**Taro Tanaka:** What was it?  
**Kanra:** They say that the leader of the Yellow Scarves wants to meet the leader of the Dollars and challenge him to some sort of showdown!  
**Saika:** Really??  
_

The rest of the conversation continued as usual, with Kanra talking about all kinds of crazy stuff. Sometimes you wonder if she started this chat simply to spread her weird gossip. Where on earth did she get all of this information, anyway? It was always "I heard" and "they said". You wouldn't be surprised if it was all gossip she made up herself. You guess you should be more forgiving towards the girl. When she wasn't spreading rumors, she was honestly pretty funny. With the new addition of Saika, the chat's dynamic had only gotten more amusing. You often wonder if you all would ever meet in person. Honestly, since you were all in Ikebukuro, you wonder if you all had met already....

You laugh dismissively as the chat closes. _No way!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its hard to like.....not acknowledge how these ppl wear the same shit everyday ESP when the reader is so fashion oriented. like "wow love that sweater hope you washed it recently"


	13. Pot Chasing Kettle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> friend, please - twenty one pilots
> 
> "friend, please, remove your hands  
>  from over your eyes for me,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the sequencing of this anime is so janky to me bc they'll cover like six days in one episode, then spend three episodes covering the events of one night it fucks me up SO BAD  
> 

Over the past week, gang fights had only escalated. Although, the way you saw it, they seemed more like attacks than fights--with the victim always ending up in the hospital. The Yellow Scarves were enacting ambushes all over the city, on people who were presumed to be members of the dollars. Even a high school student, a classmate of the Raira trio, was beaten up terribly. Unconscious bodies were found, accompanied with graffiti and vandalism crediting the carnage to the Yellow Scarves. It was disgusting to you, how they took pride in such heinous acts. On top of that, you were deeply shaken. The whole thing about the Dollars was that they were colorless. Unless you outwardly shared it, no one would be any the wiser whether or not you were actually a part of it. Despite that, the Yellow Scarves were somehow able to track down these people. As much as you hated to admit it, you were afraid that you could be next. You'd continued to practice the self-defense that you learned, but you didn't trust yourself not to freeze up when faced with the real thing.

Other members of the Dollars were having the same concerns if the forum was any indication. They had a lot of complaints, claiming how they were considering quitting and criticizing the leader for not doing anything. While you wouldn't go so far as blaming the leader, you pondered the reasoning behind their silence as well. You couldn't find it in yourself to have any ill feelings towards them, regardless. In a gang where there is no real line of command, what could they do? Eventually, the leader did come out of hiding, most likely pressured by all of the backlash.

 **admin@dollars:** _I don't think violence is the answer. Shouldn't we wait for things to calm down?_

Whoever it was, you thought they were a pretty levelheaded individual. It was odd to believe that someone like this would start a gang in the first place. Afterall, even with the calmest leader, any of the members are bound to be a little out of control. The replies to their message confirm this, reproaching the idea. You didn't disagree, though. Did those members seriously want war? All that would do is give the Yellow Scarves exactly what they were looking for and breed even more carnage. After that, the leader seemed to disappear, sending no more messages. You wonder if he even checked the forums anymore. 

Today was another day spent indoors. You had become a bit of a homebody these past few days. It had been raining non-stop, and you were a little hesitant to go out because of the attacks. Not to mention, none of your friends had been up to hang out. No one seemed to be acting themselves lately. It wasn't just the gangs, tensions seemed to be rising in every way, especially the ways that you didn't understand. You absentmindedly spin around in your chair--an activity that had become one of your favorite pastimes. As you survey your room, your eyes fall onto the yellow manila folder on your desk. It had been days since you first brought it home and you had yet to open it.

You were, for lack of better word, procrastinating. It was lost on you as to how come. It had been given to you, apparently, for your own 'enjoyment', but the idea of reading about murder for the sake of entertainment did not sit right with you. Yeah, you watched it on TV all the time, but those cases were fakes. The moment that the cameras were off, the victims' eyes opened and they continued to live, better than ever. These girls weren't ever coming back. 

That was the reason that you ultimately hadn't opened it, but you had considered it on multiple occasions. You had a bit of a fixation on true crime. Whenever you watched the TV shows, you found great joy in soaking up all of the clues, trying to guess the culprit before the detectives in the show could. You had a bit of a knack for deduction, if you did say so yourself. The idea that this particular case hadn't been solved yet made it all the more enticing...

The manila folder seemed to magically appear in your hands as if you hadn't walked up and grabbed it yourself. 

...it's not like you were happy that the girls died. If you were to read about it, you'd feel sorry for them and their families. You wouldn't take joy at all in their deaths...Even when you watched the fake ones on TV, you always took a moment to mourn. Those detectives on TV spent days contemplating the nature of the victims' murders, and there was never anything wrong with it. If you were to read about it, it would only be for research purposes, not for entertainment!

Of course...research purposes...

You sit on the bed, inspecting the folder in your hands. The titling written on the side of it was upside down, so you flipped it to read it better. Something small falls out of the bottom, bouncing off of your lap. You try to reach and catch it, but narrowly miss. It plummets into the almost nonexistent space between your bed and your nightstand. You scoff in annoyance, trying to slide your hand into the space--but to no avail. As you go onto your knees to search under the bed, a chime resounds from your phone. You move over to grab it, the object momentarily forgotten.

 **SHIZUO** _  
Hey. Tom and I are going to get dinner. Wanna come?_

You found that there were some people that appeared one way in real life, but texted in a completely different way. Anri was always quiet and timid, but over text she sounded so enthusiastic, using tons of exclamation marks and even the occasional emote. Erika and Walker, who were so lively in person, came off as surprisingly sedate in their messages. Shizuo, however, texted in such a similar manner to the way he talked that you could practically hear his voice dictating his messages. 

Just as you were about to type a response, your fingers stilled. Would it really be okay? You hadn't been out in the city recently, but you heard that the streets were practically crawling with Yellow Scarves. Once you were with Shizuo, there would be no problem, but the walk on the way there? The journey back home? You weren't so sure. The more you pondered it, the more you find yourself throwing caution to the wind. You had developed the _worst_ case of cabin fever, and the opportunity to get out of the house was very tempting.

 **ME** _  
__Absolutely! What time were you thinking?_

Oops! You accidentally hit send! Guess you have to go. As long as you're careful, you're sure that you can avoid too much trouble. Moments later, Shizuo replies with a time and place. It's a place that you hadn't been to before, so you search the restaurant's name online. Looking at the menu, you snicker as you realize it's not too different from a deli or diner. Guess you didn't have to dress too nice. You catch a glimpse of your pajama-clad form in the full-body mirror. Suddenly overcome with giddiness, you bound to your closet, eager to put on some real clothes for the first time in forever. 

* * *

Shizuo had said to meet at a much later time, but you decided to leave earlier, while it was still light out. The walks from your building to your usual hangout spots were secluded for the most part. Even before this whole gang debacle, walking alone at night had always made you nervous. You would just make it out to the crowded plaza before sunset and kill time until it was time to meet up with Tom and Shizuo. 

Breathing in deeply, you take a moment to enjoy the moisture-laden air. It hadn't started raining, luckily, but a downpour was bound to ensue sometime that night. The skies transition into sunset shades of orange and red just as crowds of people begin to surround you. The sight of so many faces instills you with a sense of joy. With a smidgen of time left to kill, you're content to just wander about until then. 

"Oh!"

Your shoulder collides with someone else's as they pass. A pink bag slips from their arm, falling to the ground. You quickly go to grab it, turning around to return it to them. A boy and girl stand before you, arms intertwined. The boy is quite plain-looking, and upon closer inspection, you notice that he's wearing a Raira uniform. The girl, however, is dressed fashionably, with accents of pink adorning her form. She has a beautiful face as well, with ocean eyes and auburn hair that has you wondering where exactly she was born. You offer the bag to the girl, assuming it to be hers.

"Sorry about that. Cute tie, by the way!" She accepts the bag and places it back on her shoulder, never separating from the boy. They were obviously a couple. 

"Thanks!" she says, beaming. The two of them turn to go, before the girl stops again, looking back at you. Her smile has dropped as she stares at you intently. You simply continue to smile, perplexed by her odd behavior. "Do I know you from somewhere?" she finally asks, turning back to face you. Her boyfriend follows her, his eyes trained on you as well. You don't know what it was about him, but you found his gaze to be a bit unsettling. 

"I don't believe we've met before, no!" you answer, scratching the back of your neck nervously. Your eyes flit to the boy's uniform. "I do have some friends that go to Raira. Perhaps you've seen me hanging around there?"

The girl gasps, eyes lighting up as her grip on the boy tightens. "Oh, I know! You're that girl I always see with Anri! I have to say, I was a little jealous at first, but I'm glad Anri has a girl to talk to. Being friends with only boys can be _hard_ , y'know?"

You nod politely as you listen to the girl. So she was a friend of Anri's, huh? That's odd, considering Anri had never mentioned her. Actually...you did recall her mentioning a girl who left her for a boy she loved. As ill-felt as that sounds, she didn't seem to have any hard feelings about it. Was this the girl? 

"Forgive me--I'm Mika. I'm an old friend of Anri's, we've known each other since we were young!" she explains, before nuzzling into her boyfriend's arm. "And this is my love, Seiji!" That much was pretty clear.

"Nice to meet you both! I'm (Y/N). And yeah--Anri is a good friend of mine. Mikado and Masaomi, as well."

"That's actually perfect! Would you mind if we stopped to chat for a moment?" You're confused by the request but comply anyways. There was no reason to rush right now. The three of you find a set of benches and have a seat. You wait patiently for Mika to bring up whatever it is she wants to talk about, but she seems to be momentarily distracted. As if suddenly remembering you were there, her attention snaps to you. 

"(Y/N)...have you noticed anything strange about Anri recently?" The question takes you off guard. Mika, a girl who's proven herself to be very upbeat and cheerful, had a very concerned look on her face, eyebrows knit together. So it hadn't been just you who noticed it. After knowing Anri for quite a while, you had grown quite skilled at distinguishing when something was bothering her. She hadn't been up to hanging out at all recently, not even with Mikado. When you did see her, her smiles and laughter carried such an air of artificiality. It was the same with Masaomi. You often found yourself wondering if the two's strange behavior were connected in some way.

"I have...why, do you have any idea what might be wrong?" Any hope you had was dashed by Mika's disappointed frown. She sighs and shakes her head. 

"I was about to ask you the same thing, I was hoping that you'd know. We talked to Mikado earlier, but he hadn't even noticed anything." Really? Those two were so close. How could he not have seen anything strange about her? Perhaps he was distracted by something else... "Anyway, I asked this of him, but I'll ask you as well. You may have better luck. Please, if you could, try to see what's been going on with her?"

Despite having become estranged from Anri, she still cared about her. She had still been looking out for her, even from far away. It brought you a sense of comfort, knowing that there were others keeping an eye onfor her. You wonder if Anri knew that. If she did, maybe she'd be more open about her troubles."I'll talk to her, and let you know if I find out anything," you reassure the girl. She smiles at your answer, tugging her boyfriend to get him to stand with her. "Thanks so much! Well, that was it. Let's go, Seiji!" 

You watch the strange couple as they travel further and further away. Well, at least they seemed happy together. Checking your phone, you see that you're right on schedule. 

* * *

"Well, don't you look nice!" Tom says at your approaching form. You grin at the comment. You really didn't dress any nicer than normal, throwing on a cute skirt and top set. In fact, the denim jacket you layered on top was more casual than you'd usually go. However, you did look pretty flowery compared to the rustic looks of Tom and Shizuo. They had probably just gotten off work, still dressed in their signature attire. 

"Hey, you guys! Thanks for inviting me along, I appreciate it," you say, directing the latter statement to Shizuo. He simply nods in acknowledgment. "No problem," he responds simply. "It was actually Tom's i--!"

Tom elbows Shizuo sharply in the side. It has little to no effect, but it does cut him off. Shizuo, surprisingly not angered by the attack, simply glances at Tom with raised eyebrows. The two have a staredown before Tom breaks it, opening the door to the restaurant for you. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Tell me, how ya been?" You lead the three of you into the restaurant, letting Tom take the lead once you're all inside. The place is small, sandwiched between two other establishments. Despite its size, it has an odd charm to it. The white and blue checkered floors provide the illusion of more space. The restaurant didn't appear to be waited, with a counter set up where you ordered your food. As you follow them through the ordering process, you chat with Tom, who is an excellent conversationalist. The last time you had sat down with the man was when you first met him, so it was refreshing to converse with a less common face. 

"Hey, why haven't I seen that outfit she got you, Shizuo? She went to all that trouble to pick it out," he goads his partner. Your eyes dart to Shizuo at the revelation. Had he not worn it yet? Perhaps he didn't like it that much, after all. Said man only glowers at him as he continues to sip from his water glass. He sets it down on the table rather harshly, thankfully having drunk enough of it to prevent its contents from splashing everywhere. Upon seeing your face, the glower immediately softens.

"Why the hell would I wear something like that to work and risk ruining it? I'm just waiting for the right occasion, that's all." He's answering Tom's question, but he's addressing you--reassuring you. You feel as though you're melting under that gentle gaze and you momentarily forget that Tom is right there. Only momentarily, because the man clears his throat, effectively putting an end to your staring contest. You sputter in embarrassment at getting distracted so easily.

"Well--I mean--I understand!! You are pretty active on the job, aren't you? It's probably more suited for a day off, anyways," you laugh loudly. You take a sip of water in hopes of calming the fire sweltering in your cheeks. After a moment, the number for your order is called and Tom goes to retrieve it. You're surprised you hadn't been to this place before, because the food is incredible! It had been long since you had last eaten out, so this was heaven for you. It's hard to stop yourself from pigging out too much, but Tom and Shizuo don't mind. After leaving the place, you guys decide not to part ways just yet, walking off the meal instead. 

"How've you been holding up with all of this Yellow Scarves stuff? It's gotta be pretty scary." Tom discusses the matter as if it’s something that won’t affect him. He was probably right to think so, considering he and Shizuo were often seen together. “What are you talking about? What’s going on with the Yellow Scarves?” Shizuo grunts. You and Tom stare at him incredulously. 

“Shizuo, you don’t know? The Yellow Scarves have been attacking members of the Dollars all over the city. People have been seriously hurt,” you explain. He is unfazed, no signs of shock or horror anywhere on his face.

”Huh. Guess I hadn’t noticed. None of those bastards picked a fight with me.”

You laugh, shaking your head at the man. Now, why wouldn’t anyone want to go and mess with Shizuo Heiwajima...? You’re caught up in your amusement for a moment, before the implications of his statement catch up to you. Even if fighting with Shizuo _wasn’t_ no man’s land, they wouldn’t mess with him anyways....

Unless he himself was a member of the Dollars himself. Your gaze travels back to the man. He’s unbothered as ever, not even noticing the bit of information he let slip. You wouldn’t exactly say that you were surprised, there had been tons of speculations regarding his involvement with the gang. However, you just never expected him to care about this sort of stuff. On the other hand, you’re sure that anyone would say the same about you. That’s the thing about the Dollars. It’s a bunch of unexpected people, rallied together under one name. The quiet teenager you passed on the street could be a part of it, and so could that middle aged teacher. For all sorts of different reasons, these people decided to join this colorless gang.

”Hey, you guys wanna grab a drink?” Tom gestures to a vending machine on the side of the walkway. You agree to a stop, leaning against the wall as the two men operate the machine. Your phone chimes lightly, soft enough that only you notice. Shizuo and Tom are preoccupied, fiddling with the machine that appears to have eaten their change.

It’s a notification from the Dollar’s forum. Another conversation had sparked up, and you were greeted with tons of messages. It appeared to be another spat, with people declaring their separation from the gang and pondering whether or not it should even exist. It seems that whatever reason each member had joined, it wasn’t worth the risk of danger. These people had obviously lost hope, driven into the shadows, just as the Yellow Scarves probably wanted them to be. 

**\---:** _I'm quitting the dollars.  
_ **\--:** _The Yellow Scarves are dead!  
_ **\-----:** _Do you guys think the Dollars should even still exist?  
_ **\---:** _Nah, they're pretty useless now. No need for them anymore!_

 _No need for them anymore...._ Had there even been a need for them in the first place? Could a gang with no trademark or line of command really have a purpose? You couldn't say for sure. In spite of that, you couldn't find it in you to abandon the dollars. Maybe it was the sense of adventure, or simply the inclination to stay loyal to a cause to the very end, but you weren't going to run away with your tail between your legs, no matter how frightened you were. Lips pursed, you hastily type out your own post.

 ***roku*:** I _bet there are people in Ikebukuro who are thankful that the Dollars exist!  
_ **\---:** _Well, I'm not one of them.  
_ ***roku*:** _Are you here for a discussion or did you just come to complain? You want to quit, go ahead--but don't try and bring the whole ship down with you._

The discussion continues to take a negative turn, with people insisting against you. However, a new voice appears, more positive than the rest. They clarify their refusal to quit the Dollars, only asking that the leader themselves do something. This sparks another wave of remarks, many questioning whether there really is a leader, others advising not to rely on them just because of hard times. Among the venomous responses, yet another new voice arises.

 **happy place:** _It was a while ago, but I remember seeing this one post.  
_ **happy place:** _They said to make the Dollars different. Make them stand for good.  
_ **happy place:** _There are a few bad ones, sure, but the rest can still be good._

At first, this post warranted the typical response. The usual skeptics dismissed the idea, continuing with their complaints. However, new usernames started to appear, carrying a different tone. They were much more optimistic, expressing hope that the Dollars _could_ be different and rise above any chaos that others are throwing their way. The voices of the critics are soon drowned out by the overwhelming support, already proposing ways in which the Dollars could better the community of Ikebukuro. You join in the chorus, bolstered by the positivity. This was it. This was why you're with the Dollars. Among the onslaught of posts, one in particular catches your attention and effectively puts an end to the virtual party.

 **\----:** _A girl's been surrounded by the Yellow Scarves in front of Veloce. They're taking her somewhere._

A girl? How young? What exactly were they planning to do? Besides yourself, all of the victims of the Yellow Scarves had been male. Looks like no one was truly safe after all. Judging from the way they were threatening you, their intentions with this girl couldn't be anything good. You stare at your screen with bated breath, hoping for more info that could aid in helping the girl. However, the next posts that appeared did absolutely nothing to soothe your growing dread.

 **\----:** _She had on a Raira uniform and glasses.  
_ **\----:** _Very large breasts._

Anri.

It had to be Anri. Sweet, meek little Anri was being taken somewhere by the Yellow Scarves.

"Well, I think Shizuo broke the machine, but we got the drinks we paid for, so here you go!" Tom appears in your field of vision, carrying two canned drinks in his hand. Upon seeing your face, his easygoing demeanor drops. "Hey, you okay? Looks like you've seen a ghost." For a moment you can't even meet his gaze, wide eyes glued to your screen as more and more panicked messages appeared. A heavy hand rests on your shoulder, its warmth great enough to seep through your clothes and onto your skin.

When you finally pull your eyes from your phone, you notice that Tom and Shizuo have switched places. Shizuo is in front of you now, concern evident on his face. He's close enough that, even in the dim lighting, you can see the outline of his eyes through his sunglasses. He doesn't say anything, simply being there in front of you. His presence alone is enough to weigh you down and remind you where you are. You don't realize how shallow your breathing had gotten until it's steadying again. Shizuo, noticing how you've settled down, gives you more space. You immediately miss the nearness.

"Thank you both for an amazing dinner...but I'm afraid I have to leave now." Your voice is surprisingly steady as you distance yourself. The men are visibly perplexed by your sudden departure, but they don't make a fuss. You tell them a hasty goodbye before hurrying away. If you remembered your directions correctly, you weren't too far from Veloce. They've probably moved a bit, but you could catch up if you moved fast enough. It was hard to check your phone while running, but you could make out a mass message, imploring everyone to do something about the emergency. 

If the witnesses were anything to go off of, they were making quick progress by the minute. However, you were relieved to see that someone had helped her out of their clutches. The game wasn't over yet, however, because they were still chasing her. Passerby whip past you at a swift rate. Many eyed you strangely, but you were too panicked to be embarrassed. The Orb Ikebukuro Building...which way was that?

Unfortunately, you can't completely trust your sense of direction and you have to stop before you get completely lost. Somehow, you've ended up in a secluded walkway. Aw man, you've definitely gone the wrong way! You take a moment to check your phone. It had been going crazy ever since you first started searching. Scrolling to the latest message, you don't believe the words you're reading. You rub your eyes before doing a double-take. 

_The girl...is now a giant bunny...??_

Was that some sort of code? What was that supposed to mean? Out of the corner of your eye, something moves. You turn to see what it is, but don't notice anything at first. However, when you squint, you could swear that that thing in the distance looks like...

A pink rabbit.

A giant pink rabbit.

Your suspicions are confirmed when said rabbit pulls its own head off. 

"Anri!" you gasp. Your feet are moving faster than your brain can, speeding towards the girl. Just as you're about to yell out to her, you notice the two men approaching her. Even under the golden tint of the setting sun, their yellow clothing is clear as day. The farther you get, the faster you seem to go. As their forms grow closer and closer, you're running a protocol in your head. What would you do--you would shield Anri, incapacitate the two gang members, and pull Anri away. There are two of them though, how would you fend off both of them? What if another comes out of hiding and grabs Anri while you're distracted? Did they have weapons?

You're so caught up in your plans, that you don't initially notice when Anri's form is pulled in another direction. Someone's beat you to the punch, grabbing Anri and pulling her away from the two thugs. At first, you think that it's another Dollars member trying to help her, but then you catch a glimpse of yellow. The other two members go chasing after them, but just as they round a corner, you finally catch up. You halt right in front of them before they can register your appearance. Unable to stop in their tracks, they run directly into you in a head-on collision, immediately toppling to the ground on impact. 

Despite the run-in, you're able to stand your ground. Looking down at the two men, you notice how they're holding their heads, most likely trying to nurse some sort of injury. Taking advantage of their distraction, you immediately continue running, heading in the same direction as the person who took Anri. They've traveled some distance, but you can still catch a glimpse of them right as they turn every corner. Whoever had taken her, they intended to go as far away as possible. Were they trying to help her, or the Yellow Scarves? If they weren't, then why is she following them so easily?

The chase doesn't last long before you're starting to hear a voice. It echoes off of the walls and only becomes clearer the more you approach it. It's boyish, with such an innocent quality to it that you wouldn't believe that it could harbor such animosity. What struck you most was how _familiar_ it sounded. "What the _hell_ are you doing?? Were you spying on us? Is _that_ why you came there?? Tell me, Anri..."

At the sound of your friend's name, your heart drops. You finally round the last corner, seeing your dear friend, still in the remnants of that bunny suit....cornered against the wall.

By your other friend, Masaomi.

It's a spectacle that you never even imagined you would see. Anri, cowering under Masaomi's frame as he looms over her, spitting these terrible _terrible_ things. They don't notice you standing there.

"Was that my fault?? Am I an idiot for protecting you?"  
"Does Mikado know anything? Just what were you planning to do about him?"  
"How could you!? You _know_ how he feels about you!"

"Why don't you tell him the truth about what you've been doing!?" Anri finally says. It was the loudest, the angriest you had ever seen her. She couldn't seem to find any words to say, only managing to stutter out fragmented responses.

"Was it fun?? Leading me on, all while you were cozying up to him?"

"That's _enough!_ " 

Both of their heads practically whirl around to face you, noticing you for the first time. You don't know what had overcome you, why you hadn't jumped to Anri's aid the moment that you saw that she was in jeopardy. Seeing Masaomi behave so venomously had stopped you in your tracks. Now, as his words caught up to you, you were disgusted by his behavior towards someone who you held so dear to you—someone who _he_ was supposed to hold dear to _him_. Anri stutters out your name, staring at you in bewilderment. Your heart breaks at how shaken she looks. "Masaomi, I don't know what on earth's gotten into you, but this needs to stop. Now." Your voice carries such a rancor that surprised even yourself. 

Masaomi turns his entire body to address you and your attention is drawn once again to the yellow bandana tied around his neck. His eyes follow your gaze before he bursts into a fit of laughter. It's not at all pleasant, ridden with bitterness. "What's gotten into _me_? Well, my apologies _ma'am_ I'm so very sorry to have disappointed you!" You can hardly recognize the boy in front of you. It's unclear whether or not you can even call him a boy. "Quick question for _you,_ (Y/N)--what were _you_ doing leaving _Izaya Orihara's_ place the other night, huh?"

At that you stay silent. The way that Anri's eyes widen, staring at you owlishly, does little to soothe your nerves. Masaomi can only glare at you accusatorily. Just like the moment he had saw you leaving that apartment, you don't know what to say, unable to think of any way to defend yourself. You can only stay silent, fearful that stammering for an answer would only solidify your guilt. The boy snickers.

"Both of you act so innocent--like everyone is the bad guy and you've done _nothing_ wrong, huh? When really, you're no better than me! Honestly, it's disgust--!"

The sound of the slap is sharp, echoing off of the tall alley walls. It's visible, how the hostility leaves Masaomi's eyes in a matter of seconds. Anri walks up to you, not even bothering to look at the boy. As she stands before you, gaze glued to the floor, you can’t help but notice how empty she looks—yet somehow, her eyes are still swimming with emotion. Your hand flies to hers, gently intertwining your fingers and leading her away.

For a split second, you sneak a glance at Masaomi, who is staring right back at you. His miserable form is a completely different picture from the person he had been mere moments ago. The hard gaze that you had tried to maintain immediately softens without your permission. A teenage boy who had gotten caught up in his own emotions.

He hadn't meant any of it. He couldn't have.

A part of you wanted to try to reach out and test the possibility of reconciliation, but something told you that these two needed to be separated for a bit.

Whatever whirlwind had occurred between the two of them, they needed time to heal from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i may make a playlists of songs that fit this story bc lately I've been hearing songs and thinking "wow that fits herculean"  
> ALSO!!!! my computer kinda sorta set combusted on the inside so im gotta try and figure out how the hell im gonna continue w this


	14. Hair Trigger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seven - rainbow kitten surprise
> 
> "seven, six, five, four, three, two, one  
> everybody got a name, everybody got a number,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG TIME NO SEE  
> SORRY for disappearing after my computer jacked up I struggled to find a new way to write!!! i'll probs be using my phone for a bit. also--i have added a designated song for each chapter--check the end of this chapter for the full list and i'll add more songs as i go! also check the previous chapters for some cool lyrics ;)
> 
> tw: graphic descriptions of murder

The walk was silent, save for the sounds of rolling thunder and light footfalls. It had gotten dark now, and the two of you only had streetlamps to use as means of navigation. You eventually stopped at a park, suggesting that Anri use one of the public bathrooms to change out of the rest of her bunny outfit. She agrees, letting go of the hand she had held the entire walk there. As she changes, you keep watch outside, leaning against the side of the building. Your phone chimes with its billionth notification that night, and you're reminded of the forum. It would be best to update everyone, since they were so worried. 

***roku*:** _She's safe with me, everyone. No Yellow Scarves in sight._

You smile as several messages of affirmation pop up. It was heartwarming how much these people cared about someone who they didn't even know. Anri finally emerges, holding the bunny uniform in her hands. "We'll have to figure out a way to get that guy his suit back, huh?" you chuckle softly. She's still sullen, as you'd expect, and you're content to be there for her until she started to feel better. Once she's close enough, you lay a hand on her back, rubbing a small, brief circle. "Hey, listen." She finally looks you in the eye, and the pure emotion swimming in them practically breaks your heart. "You're gonna be okay."

While her smile doesn't quite meet her eyes, you're happy to see that she's trying to cheer up.

"Hey! There she is!"

 _UGH_ you hate these guys.

You spot Horada clambering around a corner, accompanied by several gang members. It was the most of them you had seen all together in one spot. They stop in their tracks, doubling over in exhaustion from the strenuous chase. You position your body to shield Anri as Horada approaches, bearing a menacing smile. “Don’t even think about it, bitch! You may have gotten lucky last time, but you won’t stand a chance against all of us,” he taunts. However, he still maintains a noticeable distance from you.

You don’t gratify him with a response, only continuing to glare at him and cover Anri. On the inside, though, you trembled at the thought that he was right. There were definitely too many of them to get out of this unscathed. Horada stretches his neck to peer over your shoulder at Anri. “And you, come clean! You’re with the Dollars, aren’tcha!?” Your eyes narrow at the accusation. How stupid could they be to think that? A girl like Anri, involved with the Dollars? After a moment, you realized how long it had been since she had said anything. 

You turn over your shoulder to get a look at the girl. She’s surprisingly still, not trembling or fidgeting. The white light of the streetlamp above you reflects from her glasses, obscuring her eyes. Anri wasn’t even looking at the man, chin tipped downward and gaze aimed at the floor.

“I’m not,” she says finally, steady and unmoved.

“The hell you’re not!! Quit lyin’ and tell us who the hell you think you are!” Horada spits. The group seems to be closing around the two of you more and more with every passing moment. You hastily turn to Anri, mouth fixed to tell her no, don’t say anything, you don’t owe them that—but the words die on your lips at the sight of her. 

“Do you really want to know the truth? About what _I_ am?”

Horada and his goons laugh at that, continuing to taunt the girl. However, the words fall on deaf ears as your full attention is drawn to her. Something about her was very strange. As disgusting laughter fills the air, you stare into Anri’s eyes, searching for some semblance of understanding. For a moment, even through the flash of the streetlights, you swear that the white glint of her glasses goes red. Out of the corner of your eye, something glimmers silver from beneath her hand. You murmur her name, hoping for some sort of response, but she doesn’t seem to hear even you.

“Well, we did a little something special to those guys you turned against us. We beat the shit out of ‘em!”

In a pinch of a second, it all disappears. Anri gasps and finally turns to look at Horada. The change in position removes the glint from her glasses, revealing her wide, brown eyes. Even then, you couldn’t shake the vision of the red mingling with the brown, quick and fleeting like the eye of a stove. What was Horada talking about to horrify her so? How exactly had she turned anyone against them? As you finally address the gang again, you realize with panic that they’ve effectively closed the two of you in. Anri seems to have come to her senses now, staring fearfully at the guys surrounding the two of you.

“That being said, it just wouldn’t be fair for _you_ to walk away without a scratch,” Horada drawls. He's closed the distance, probably bolstered by the presence of his goons. He’s still staring at Anri, but when you follow his line of sight, you’re disgusted to see that his eyes were trained on her breasts. A trail of blood trickles from his nose. Grimacing in disgust, you press a hand to his chest, shoving him as far away from you as he can. He grunts, stumbling backward and falling flat on his butt after losing his footing. “Get away from my friend, you creep—I won’t let you put a hand on her!” you snarl, voice riddled with an unexpected amount of venom.

Horada sits there for a moment, the wind having been effectively knocked out of him. After regaining his senses, he growls, face going red with rage. “You bitch! You’ll regret that!” He pulls himself back onto his feet, and you notice that he’s struggling a little bit. None of the other men move, only staring at their leader. Upon noticing their eyes on him, he sputters in embarrassment. “Why the hell are you just standing there!? Get them!”

You and Anri can only stand where you are, cornered on all sides by yellow-clad punks. They eye you with malicious intent, brandishing their weapons. Your resolve to save face begins to break, replaced by a growing panic as you watch them slowly advance. For a moment, you can only focus on the vigorous ringing in your ears, drowning out the nasty laughter and snide remarks. However, as you listen closer, you notice a ringing outside of the noises in your head. Just as your eyes begin to reach beyond the crowd, searching for a source to the noise, a familiar voice joins the fray. More specifically, a familiar _yelling_ voice.

“Shut the hell up. Stop freakin’ beeping at me, I can’t read all this crap! School girls, bunny suits—the hell am I supposed to do about it!?”

The crowd surrounding separates like the gates of heaven, revealing the holiest angel—an angel that was currently swearing at his own phone. The thugs stared at him in shock, while you could only grin foolishly at the man. He stops abruptly, head slowly turning to see the gang members standing not too far from him. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as his eyes shift from the Yellow Scarves, to Horada, to Anri, and to _you._ From the fire of rage that instantly ignited in his eyes, it looked like you and Anri were off the hook. 

He approaches the ring leader, him and all of his goons being too terrified to move a muscle. You seize the opportunity, backing out of the trapped position in the middle of the cluster and guiding Anri to follow you. Before you can even turn back to look at Shizuo, Horada is already flying, rising higher and higher into the air before finally falling back down again. Over the sound of his screaming, you hear other voices joining him, most likely facing the same fate.

The area clears in mere moments as the rest of the thugs scuttle away, leaving you with Shizuo and Anri. He finally turns back to the two of you, not a bit unsettled by the encounter. You could almost laugh, but you’re a bit to exhausted, settling with smiling at him instead. “Th...thank you for saving us...again…” Anri says, bowing to the man. This wasn’t the first time he had come to your aid, was it? Looks like you owe this guy a lot. Shizuo only stares at the girl indifferently, long enough for you to get a little concerned.

“...Who are you again…?” You gasp dramatically at the question, swatting at Shizuo in offense on Anri’s behalf.

“Shizuo, just because you saved her doesn’t mean you can be rude!!” He’s expectedly unfazed. If you didn’t know any better, you could swear that there was amusement swimming in his eyes. “This is _Anri,_ my _friend_. You saved her from a crazed news reporter with a knife.”

“Right, sorry.” He nods simply and you already know that he’s going to forget again. You feel a sudden presence beside you and yelp. In the darkness, you hadn’t noticed Celty approaching you. You’re the only one taken off-guard, as Shizuo only addresses the woman, declaring that he was turning his phone off. She stood there silently for a moment, typing nothing. Finally, shadows waft past you, surrounding Anri’s head. The shadows cleared, revealing the girl’s head encased in a helmet, similar to the one she had put on you before. 

**“I’ll drive her home, I’m sure she’s been through a lot. Thanks for looking out for her.”**

She shows the message to you and Shizuo. You quickly grab Anri’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze. She finally looks up at you for the first time since the Yellow Scarves showed up. You can’t tell if she’s smiling back at you or not. Through the sleek, dark helmet, you could only see her eyes. You found yourself peering deeply into them, hoping that the reddish tints in her pupils were just your imagination. 

Her hand slips out of yours as she walks away with Celty, most likely to mount her bike. You watch their disappearing forms until they’re clearly out of sight. “That why you ran off like that?” Shizuo speaks up from behind you. He seemed so tranquil now, even after the rampage he had just gone on. Although, he didn’t meet your gaze, eyes fixed on something else away from you. Your eyes scan his face and beneath the tranquility of his features, you see insecurity. Had he been hurt when you left so quickly?

Pushing down the rising feeling of guilt in your chest, you muster a mischievous smile. “Well...can’t confirm or deny that the information got to me, somehow,” you tease, winking. He huffs, mouth twitching into a lax smile. 

After you and Anri had been cornered by the Yellow Scarves, someone spotted you and messaged the Dollars forum. The celebration incited by your previous message was cut short, as now everyone was on a mission to save a big-breasted school girl with glasses _and_ a flamboyantly dressed foreign woman. You couldn't tell what was funnier, the way that they described you or how the numerous texts from Erika indicated that the description was pretty accurate. The first chance you got, you made a point to text her that you were okay.

Shizuo, being the gentleman that he was, decides to walk you home. Mere minutes into your walk, the moisture in the air overflows and your nose is met with small droplets of water. The two of you were umbrella-less, but neither of you seemed to mind. You pass a cement walking structure and something catches your attention from the corner of your eye. A figure stands at the very center of it, standing completely still. As the rainfall is growing heavier, it’s hard to make out who it is. You crane your neck as you and Shizuo begin to pass the person. From a different angle, you finally catch who the person is.

Mikado always seemed to shrink when you stood face to face with him--as if he was constantly trying to eschew all sorts of attention from himself. However, in this moment, when he stood so high above you, staring down at you, he looked so unbelievably _powerful_. You could make out nothing but his form, and the downward tip of his head towards you--his facial expression remained a mystery. Not wanting to make Shizuo stop, you quickly smile in greeting, waving at the boy before you finally have to look forward again.

You wondered what he was doing out so late, and if he had caught wind of the commotion surrounding his close friend. An ordinary boy like Mikado, sincere, but admittedly very average… could he be a part of the Dollars? You chuckle to yourself and shake your head, continuing to carry the conversation between you and Shizuo. 

You don’t see why not.

* * *

The feeling of the quilted comforter against your face is very welcome. Immediately falling face-first onto the bed, it takes everything in you not to fall asleep then and there, fully-clothed. Sighing, you extract yourself from the blankets and sit up, kicking off your shoes and going to change into some pajamas. After a very hasty change, you plop back onto your safe haven. However, you yelp as you realize you’ve landed on something. You pull the offending object out from under you. The manila folder rests in your hand, now slightly crumpled. In your sluggish state, your inhibitions are slow to hinder your impulses.

You remove the paper clip holding it closed and open it for the first time. It seemed so easy in this moment, as if you hadn’t been scared to even touch the thing for the past few days. It's much more underwhelming an experience than you had anticipated. The first few pages are all words, and you immediately notice the dark lines where certain sentences have been crossed out. It’s not so obstructive that you can’t understand each passage, but it’s fairly obvious that some of the information was being purposely hidden.

> _January 25th, 2015, at 11:34 PM, Andrew and Halley Clarence came home from an outing to the body of their 17 year old daughter, Leanne Clarence, as well as the bodies of 17 year old Renee Hall and 18 year old Katherine Harker. The estimated time of death for all three victims are believed to be relatively close together, around 8 to 9 PM._
> 
> _Katherine Harker was found in the kitchen with 2 stab wounds, one to her left side and the other, the likely cause of death, to the right side of her neck. The murder weapon was not found, but it is believed to be a kitchen knife that was missing from the crime scene._
> 
> _Renee Hall was found by the pool, at the bottom of the stairs leading to the covered deck. The cause of death is confirmed to be strangulation. The markings on the victim’s neck were matched with the hose attached to the wall closest to the body._
> 
> _Leanne Clarence was found in the pool. Cause of death was confirmed to be drowning. The autopsy also revealed_ _._
> 
> _confirmation regarding the sequence of the victims’ murders,_ _drowned Clarence in the pool_ _stabbed Harker to death in the kitchen_ _strangling Hall next to the pool._

Your heart aches at the morbid descriptions. It was astounding to you how someone could bring such a cruel end to the young girls. You found yourself thankful that some of it was blacked out, assuming the censored portions to be too graphic for just anyone to be exposed to. Most of the pages were less traumatizing, going over court procedures and speculations on possible culprits. 

The family’s housekeeper, who came in weekly to maintain the household. An elderly neighbor of the family who had recently been admitted into a psychiatric hospital. A relative of Renee Hall, who had been cut out of the family due to drug use and deviant behavior. However, much of this section of the files was spent speculating about an undiscovered serial killer.

> _The Baseball Card Killer is believed to be responsible for the deaths of countless women, ranging in the ages of 18 to 27. The nickname ‘Baseball Card’ references the culprit’s tendency to keep a ‘trophy’ from each victim, collecting them like baseball cards. Victim’s have been found missing items such as wedding rings, clothing items, and, most notably, locks of hair. This would explain_.

From the looks of it, all clues were pointing to this ‘Baseball Card Killer’. The only thing stopping the case from being closed was his discovery. This killer had been active for years, but they still had yet to even locate him.

There’s a break in the paper work and that’s when you come across the first photo. It’s another sheet of printer paper with nothing but three pictures are printed onto it. Each picture has a girl in it, depicting them from the shoulders up--yearbook photos. They’re all beautiful girls, only a little younger than you. 

> The first girl--Renee--has a round, freckled face and wide, dark eyes. Even printed in black and white, the light streaks in her short, dark hair are prominent. You wonder what color they were.
> 
> The second girl--Katherine--is slim-faced, smiling brightly to reveal a set of braces. Her hair is lighter than the other girl’s, but not quite blonde.
> 
> The third picture resides in the middle of the two, occupying its own row. Leanne’s heart-shaped face is framed by long, flowing hair. It cascaded down her shoulders, long enough that the ends are visible in the frame. Her bangs curl over her eyebrows, barely avoiding covering her eyes. It's extremely light colored, showing up as near white in the grayscale color scheme.

There’s a tremor in the paper, building to such an intensity that you can’t focus on the picture anymore. It takes you a moment to find the source of the shaking to be your own hands, stiff and veined from the tension of gripping the paper. A tear starts to form at the top, ripping lower and lower and lower…

The paper begins to part just above the blonde girl’s head before your grip loosens. The paper, nearly ripped in half, flutters to your feet. Your tired eyes flicker to the clock beside your bed and widen at how much later it’s gotten. A yawn tumbles it’s way out of your mouth.

Without much of a second thought, you lean over and turn out the lamp on your nightstand. Eager to finally get some rest, you turn on your side and quickly wade your way into a much-needed sleep. The manila folder sits on your night stand, still open to one of the case analysis pages. 

Forgotten on the floor, the torn sheet of paper flutters under the cool air blowing through the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Good Life by Sammy Rae & the Friends  
> 2\. Come True by khai dreams, Forrest, Biskwiq, and Wizard Island  
> 3\. Me, Myself, and I by Raleigh Ritchie  
> 4\. Yoko Ono by moby rich  
> 5\. Everything’s Gonna Be Alright by Infinity’s Song  
> 6\. Mysterious Vibes the Blackbyrds  
> 7\. Goodie Bag by Still Woozy  
> 8\. O My Heart by Mother Mother  
> 9\. Pork Soda by Glass Animals  
> 10\. The Execution of All Things by Rilo Kiley  
> 11\. s p a c e by jay squared feat. santana davinci  
> 12\. Flesh n Bone by Sammy Rae & the Friends  
> 13\. Friend, Please by twenty one pilots  
> 14\. Seven by Rainbow Kitten Surprise


	15. Heart to Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> forgiven - alanis morisette
> 
> "what i learned i rejected but i believe again  
>  i will suffer the consequences of this inquisition  
>  if i jump in this fountain, will i be forgiven?,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good news the other seasons of drrr ARE on hulu bless up  
> \--  
> i put all of the songs for this story into a playlist and it SLAPS its such a vibe

The Dollar’s forum was inaccessible. 

Last night’s storm had continued well into the morning. It had been so dark when you woke up that you had initially thought that it was still nighttime. However, you soon found out that you had slept well into the day.

You eagerly went to check the forum, wanting to recount the previous night's events with a clearer mind. However, when you opened the link, you were met with an error message. At first, you assumed it was a mistake, re-typing the link again. And again. And again. Unease began to overtake you as you texted Erika, asking if she was having the same problem.

 **ERIKA  
** _You missed it? The leader completely disbanded the Dollars. They shut down the website and everything!_

For a moment, you could only stare at the text, finding the information to be so unbelievable that you assumed it to be a prank. You knew, however, that Erika wasn’t the type to pull a random joke like this. 

**ME  
** _No way! Did they have anything to say as to why???_

 **ERIKA  
** _Little to nothing. People were talking about the spike in Yellow Scarves attacks and then the website suddenly disappeared!_

Right as people were starting to band together like they never had before...why now? Did the leader not want that? Was the Dollars created with malicious intentions, and disbanded because its members went against them? It wasn’t like the gang was your only way of life. You barely knew anyone else that was apart of it, and the ones you did know were found by happenstance. Heck, getting involved in such affairs had even jeopardized your life. If it was truly an evil force from the start, maybe it was for the best that it was gone for good. 

_That’s not what it was about to become, though._ No matter what the leader wanted—did it even matter? How many times had they even come forward. Had they ever even issued a command to be followed? All on its own, the gang was about to become such a positive force; one that even the Yellow Scarves couldn’t stifle. 

Hours later, as you walked through the city, you were still mourning the gang—possibly one of the most important parts of Ikebukuro, and you had been a part of it.

As you waded through deepening puddles, you found yourself bowing your head, tipping your umbrella to shadow your face. The streets were relatively clear, but that didn’t mean that certain gang members weren’t hiding in the shadows. You were ashamed of your own paranoid behavior. A different, prideful part of you wanted to walk around freely, unhidden and uncovered. It was that part of you that kept you from dressing more conservatively than you normally did. Now, though, the cautious part of you deeply regretted throwing on the funky button-up that adorned your frame. 

Among the dreary scheme of dull tones, the seemingly manageable colors of your shirt seemed so much brighter—and much less inconspicuous. You did your best to brush the anxiety aside, considering the taxing journey to be worth it if it meant being there for your friend.

**CELTY**   
_I brought Anri to stay at my place for a bit, if you’d like to come visit. I feel like she could use you by her side right now._

The message radiated such a tenderness that warmed your heart. You told Celty that you would try and wait out the rain, then hurry over the first chance you got. You waited for quite some time, but even after a long while, the rain didn’t seem to be letting up. It seemed like you would have to face the showers if you were going to see your friend at a reasonable hour.

“Woah! You’re completely soaked!”

“Nice to see you too, Shinra.”

Said doctor moves to the side to allow you into the apartment. He offers you a towel, lamenting how cold you must be. “No, I’m fine. A towel would be nice though,” you smile at the doctor, who goes off to grab you one. Your eyes follow his form before you notice the people occupying the couch. A warmth washes over you, bringing a smile to your face. “Hey, ladies.”

Celty waves to you, gesturing for you to come over. As you approach, you laugh at the controllers in their hands and the video game console on the table in front of them. You don’t sit quite yet, wanting to avoid getting the seats wet. 

**“Hey! I thought you were gonna wait until the rain stopped.”** Shinra appears beside you and hands you a towel, which you gratefully accept. You finally sit on the couch perpendicular to theirs. Anri, who sits on the side closest to you, regards you with a friendly smile. You can’t help but note how it doesn’t meet her eyes. “I was, but it didn’t look like it was going to clear up anytime soon,” you pause to look out the window, where the rain was beating against the glass in earnest. “Figured that I should get over here before it got even darker than it already was. With everything going on, it doesn’t hurt to be safe.”

Anri’s entire body seems to tense up at your words and you immediately wish you had an undo button. She was probably still shaken up about the previous night. You put a hand over hers in an attempt to comfort her. “But I’m sure it’ll all be over soon.” It obviously doesn’t help. Her eyes are glued to her lap and she no longer even tries to smile. You and Mika were right. Something was bothering her—and it had only gotten worse. You look at Celty, eyes questioning, prying to see if she noticed the same things that you did.

However, Celty doesn’t gratify you with an answer. Instead, her shoulders drop as if she’s sighing, at a loss for words.To your confusion, she stands, making her way to the hallway and taking Shinra to leave with her.

**“Please, talk to her.”**

She shows you the message quickly, as if she was trying to avoid Anri’s gaze. Shinra doesn’t seem to take whatever hint Celty gives him, loudly asking why he has to leave with her and even insisting that he stay. A ribbon of black mist appears and wraps around Shinra’s head, covering his mouth. Celty practically drags him into the hall, most likely pulling him into a separate room. You can’t help but laugh at the departure.

“Y’know, for such an unlikely pair, they work pretty well together,” you jest, turning to Anri for some sort of response. She simply nods, eyes focused on the spot where Celty had just been. Tough crowd. You brush it off, gesturing to the paused screen on the TV. “You gonna continue?” 

Anri shakes her head. “It’s in multiplayer mode, so I can’t play by myself.”

You hum, before pulling yourself to your feet. You move to sit beside Anri, grabbing the controller that Celty had discarded. “I can help you out, then! I’m not much of a gamer, but you can just show me the ropes!”

Anri stares at the controller laying limply in her hands. “I don’t think that I can.” Your brows furrowed at her answer. God, what had Celty left you with? You wanted so badly to cheer her up, but you had no idea how if she was in this deep.

“Oh!” A lightbulb goes off in your head as you suddenly remember something. You reach into your bag that sat on the floor at your feet. “I almost forgot...I brought you a little something!”

“(Y/N), you didn’t have to…”

“Oh please, like it’s any trouble to get a gift for my friend. It’s long overdue, anyway.” You finally find what you’re looking for, gently encasing it in your fist and turning back to her. Your fingers open, presenting the small object resting in your palm. 

The earrings were a hoop shape, candy red and a little on the chunkier side. What was most notable about them, however, were the clasps attaching them to the base board. “They’re clip-ons!” you beam. Anri examines the jewelry with owlish eyes. At least she didn’t seem too uninterested. Taking her attention as a sign of interest, you unclasp one of the earrings, holding out towards her. “May I…?”

Her eyes switch between the earring and your face, full of both caution and curiosity. Finally, she nods. You’re relieved that she’s willing to give it a chance. Your fingers brush the side of her face as you clasp the earring to her earlobe. You make sure that she’s comfortable, asking if it was too tight or if anything was hurting her. After she confirms that everything felt fine, you help her put on the other one. You lean back to get a good look at her and grin at your handiwork. 

Reaching into your bag once more, you pull out a compact mirror and hand it to her. “Just as I suspected,” you say smugly, watching as she inspects her own reflection. “Super cute.”

Your heart rejoices at the sight of her smile, a genuine, thoughtless smile. “I really like them...thank you, (Y/N),” she says, handing the mirror back to you. You help her take them off, making sure to show her how to get them to clasp and unclasp, before you return them to the base board. In the few moments of silent movement, her smile fades again, returning to a thin line.

“I ran into a friend of yours, yesterday,” you fill the silence with mindless chatter. Her eyebrows raise at the statement. “Mika Harima. You’ve talked to me about her, right?” Anri doesn’t look too happy at the mention of the name, avoiding your gaze.

“Y-yes, we used to be friends, but we don’t hang around each other much, anymore,” she explains, toying with the clasp on one of the earrings. She could break them if she kept messing with them like that—but you could always just get her a new pair. It’s going to be hard to say what you want to say next—but you couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“Well, we stopped and talked for a while. She recognized me, probably saw me hanging around at the school at some point.” Anri nods so you assume that she’s still listening. “And...well—we actually talked a little bit about you, Anri.” She looks up at you again, visibly put off by the revelation. Still, she says nothing, imploring you to continue.

“I know you two don’t talk much anymore, but she’s been keeping an eye on you, Anri, and she’s worried about you. She probably didn’t want me to tell you exactly like this, but...but I’ve noticed the same things and we both have the same question, so…”

Your eyes bore into hers, taking in the different emotions swimming through them. Sadness, apprehension, fear…

“Anri, has something been bothering y—“

“No!” She stands so abruptly that you wonder if she’s dizzy afterwards. Her chest heaves from the sudden burst in energy, body overridden with anxiety. You’re surprisingly calm, never leaving your spot on the couch. Her defensiveness only confirmed your suspicions—and allowed other ones to grow.

“I don’t know if you think that I’d be angry with you, or that I would judge you, or maybe that I just might not be able to help.” Your voice is level and comforting, trying to coax her little by little. “Maybe that last part might even be true...but I would never judge you, Anri, and as long as it’s you...I could try and understand. Whatever you think might anger me, I promise you, I have too much faith in you to let one little thing turn me against you.”

Anri doesn’t respond. Her clench fists rest at her sides, quivering along with the rest of her body. You need to help her. It might require some prying, and you may have to be forceful, but she needs help.

“All of those Slashers, the ones that attacked me in my apartment, they were just previous victims who survived their attacks. Something was making them act against their own will, and they became Slashers themselves,” you start, taking in how she flinches at the mention of the Slasher. You smile at her, trying to convey that you harbored no ill feelings towards her. “After that night that they invaded my apartment, and you ended up in the hospital, all that seemed to come to a stop, didn’t it?” 

“I had the theory that, somehow, the Slasher brainwashed its victims by attacking them—by cutting them. Seemed like a pretty solid theory...but there were some holes in it.” You would think there was an earthquake, the way that Anri was shaking. She’s starting to pull away, backing up into the table. You finally stand, to her apparent horror. Her distress was most definitely your fault, and you felt terrible, but it was all going to settle out. “I only know two people that have gotten attacked by the Slasher, but showed no side effects afterwards—other than a couple of scars. One of them was Shizuo Heiwajima. To some extent, it’s understandable...the guy’s kind of a superhuman, afterall. The other one, though…”

Her arm flinches away from yours as you go to take her hand. You don’t relent, though, catching it and encasing her hand with two of your own. “Was my friend, Anri. At first, I had nothing to think of it. All of the slasher attacks had stopped. I went days without seeing any crazed men or women brandishing sharp weapons. It was the end of it all, that’s why nothing happened to you....But I noticed something strange, last night.”  
  


_“Do you really want to know the truth? About what I am?”  
  
_

You had momentarily forgotten about it. How the Yellow Scarves had the two of you cornered...and how calm and collected Anri had been. It wasn’t until Horada had revealed that they had attacked a few of their own members that she looked truly helpless. “I’d know those red eyes anywhere...but whatever you could have done, it wouldn’t have helped, right? Those guys that you ‘turned against them’...they couldn’t have helped, huh?”  
  


_“Well, we did a little something special to those guys you turned against us. We beat the shit out of ‘em!”  
  
_

Her eyes were overflowing now, a dam that collected rivers for years and has finally cracked open. You pull her into your arms, embracing her. Her shoulders don’t shake and she heaves no sobs, she just lets you hold her as the floodgates empty themselves.  
  


 **_Kanra_ ** _: You know the Headless Rider?  
_ ** _Kanra:_ ** _Apparently, it teamed up with the Slasher--and together they attacked the Yellow Scarves at their secret hideout!  
  
_

“They saw you and Celty at the Yellow Scarves hideout, and that’s why the Yellow Scarves were after you, and Masaomi…”  
  


_"What the hell are you doing?? Were you spying on us? Is that why you came there?? Tell me, Anri..."  
  
_

“He thought you had betrayed him...but that wasn’t it, was it? The gang wars, the Yellow Scarves attacks...you think it’s your fault. You wanted to make things right, somehow.”  
  


 **_Kanra:_ ** _Both the Yellow Scarves and the Dollars have people that got hit!  
_ ** _Kanra:_ ** _And each side is completely convinced that the other group is behind it all!_  
  


You finally release Anri, placing your hands on her shoulders and pulling back to look at her. Her eyes are lined with tears, but there’s no more tension. As much as she may have dreaded this moment, it was like a huge release to her. “That last part, I have no evidence or indication for it...but I trust you, Anri.”

It had all come together so slowly, the main retardant being your own denial. You had greatly underestimated Anri, labeling her as a timid, ordinary school girl in the middle of a chaotic city. It was foolish of you to assume that she herself wasn’t one of the things that made Ikebukuro so special. 

“(Y/N).... I...I promise that all of those people—it wasn’t—“

“I’m sure there is some sort of long, convoluted explanation for all of it. We can get to that, later. For now...you don’t have to hide anything from me. I’m here for you, okay?” Anri raises her hand to her eyes, rubbing the tears away. You watch her patiently. As she meets your gaze again, there’s a newfound resolve in her expression. She nods, a small smile decorating her features. It wasn’t an answer to all of her problems...but it was reassurance. Masaomi lashed out on her and Mikado probably isn’t any the wiser. Everything Anri was going through, she’s been dealing with it all alone. 

But not anymore.

“Yesterday, when those guys were chasing me...so many people were helping me. Complete strangers were going to so much trouble because of me,” Anri recounts. The two of you had returned to your positions on the couch, and Anri took the opportunity to finally express some of the thoughts that were bothering her. You can’t hold back your chuckle, causing Anri to eye you with confusion.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh, but…” Your grin widens, “Those strangers? Those were members of the Dollars.” The girl gapes, brows furrowing at the revelation. It’s an unbelievable idea, you know, but she knew you had no reason to lie.

“The Dollars?? But...why would they…” 

“Some sort of heroic streak, I guess. Someone saw you getting cornered, and then there were people looking out for you all over the city!”

“How do you know all of this…?” Your eyebrows raise at the question as you realize how much you’ve exposed yourself. It had come to you so freely that you hadn’t even thought to censor your own words. Drinking in Anri’s egging expression, you fall into a fit of laughter. “Because I’m a member of the Dollars, of course! You’re not the only one with skeletons in the closet, y’know?” You honestly didn’t know how you expected her to react. Even then, her small smile was a bit of a surprise to you. Perhaps it was comforting for her to know that everyone had things about themselves that they chose to hide.

It felt like a barrier had broken between you too. Sitting beside each other, failing miserably at the video game that Shinra and Celty had, you thought about the first time the two of you had hung out like this. When you and Anri sat in the dark, on an air mattress in Erika’s apartment. You both knew so little about each other, yet there was still an openness, one that had been disappearing over time. You hoped that, now that she’s shared this secret with you, that openness would start to return.

Shinra and Celty returned after a bit, joining you and Anri in front of the television. At the fault of Shinra, it became apparent to you that the two of them may have listened in on your conversation. They must have known about Anri before even you had. It made sense, since Celty was with Anri the night that she was spotted at the Yellow Scarves hideout. It was reassuring to you, knowing that someone else was there for her when you weren’t able to be.

With the consistency of a dreary sky, it’s difficult to tell how much time you’re spending in the apartment. You have no complaints, though. Celty and Shinra continue to be such a lively pair and it’s heartening to watch Anri get a giggle out of their antics. You also learn, with great pleasure, that Celty is not a very good sport when it comes to video games. With practice, you get pretty good at the game, yourself, finally being able to keep up with Celty and Shinra. Anri is content to hand over the controller and watch from the sidelines. Through the dark overcast, rays of sunset orange shine into the apartment, insistent on making themselves known.

The moisture clinging to your clothes is long-gone. Combined with the cup of tea you’re enjoying with Anri, you find yourself feeling especially content. The two of you sit beside a window that does very little to illuminate the room. Rain raps against the window, enacting an assault on the cool glass. It’s heavy and unrelenting. So much chaos swirling within those clouds, constantly overflowing and sending excess raining down at a mile per minute. Even so, you find a strange sense of serenity in the sound. The peace is disturbed by a movement across from you. Anri stands, setting down her half empty cup of tea.

“I’m going to go talk to Celty,” she says. She trails off, fiddling with her own fingers. When she makes no effort to move, you start to get what she’s hinting at. “I’ll come with you.” Anri seems to relax at this, allowing you to follow her to Celty’s office. Her and Shinra are there, together, looking at something on the computer. As you enter, you swear you catch a glimpse of an error screen, before it quickly disappears. A notepad window appears in its place.

**“What’s up, you two?”**

“I was wondering if we could talk for a bit?”

When you said that you could get an explanation from Anri later, you were thinking a different day, or even week. Unbeknownst to you, it would only be a mere couple of hours later. You’re thankful that she’s just as comfortable telling you as she is with telling Celty. You don’t quite understand everything, but it comes to you the more she explains everything to both of you. The Slasher that was responsible for all of those attacks people saw on the news, was a different Slasher. In fact, it wasn’t correct to call Anri a 'Slasher' at all. Moreso, the word that both she and Celty kept using was “Saika”. At the sound of the name, your ears perked. _Like the Saika from the chatroom?_

The most that Anri was doing with her ‘Saika’ was using it to get in contact with some Yellow Scarves, who had already been victims of the previous Slasher. Whatever power that the Slasher had on them before, was Anri’s now. She was getting them to stop the Yellow Scarves attacks from the inside. You could see how that only stoked more flames between the gangs, seeing as the Yellow Scarves went on to intensify their attacks against the Dollars. 

Anri describes what she saw when she snuck into the Yellow Scarves’ hideout. It was crowds of people, gathered around a sort of stage. He sat far in the back of the stage, almost unnoticeable, but he was there. Masaomi wasn’t just another member of the Yellow Scarves, but the leader. Your heart constricts in your chest. Was this really all his doing? Could your friend really be responsible for such violent acts? You had noticed his change in demeanor, ever since the night you had been with him and Mikado at Russia’s Sushi—but the whirlwind in behavior he had exhibited the night before was all it took to see that he could be spiraling out of control. He was bearing a great weight on his shoulders, that much was certain.

The three had become greatly estranged because of misunderstandings and miscommunication. Despite their admittedly extraordinary lives, these lives still intertwined and these kids became great friends. They deserved to keep that, no matter what their pasts were.

**“First, we need to put an end to this gang war.”**

Celty was right. Intentional or not, reciprocal or not, it was tearing these kids apart. Anri agrees, a sense of determination visibly overtaking her. Your chest swells with pride at her strength. **“In order to do that, we have to talk to Mikado.”** Your eyebrows shoot up at the words. What does Mikado have to do with this? Anri verbalizes your question, which Celty only returns with a vague response. She explains that him and Anri have something in common, and that he was was most likely keeping it from her because of her importance to him. You’re head began to swirl with all sorts of possible explanations, but nothing really stuck. Your mind was open to anything, but the idea of Mikado getting involved in a gang war was just a bit far-fetched to you.

Deciding that it wasn’t her explanation to give, Celty decides to go retrieve the boy herself. It’s such a quick decision that leaves you registering just how important it must have been. She types a message to Shinra. “I promise...you can trust me, I swear!” he says, smiling easily at her.

“Celty,” Anri says as the woman stands to leave. “I’m done. I don’t want to run anymore.” Celty stares at her for a moment, and in her own special, headless way, she nods. A short moment after she’s out the door, you hear that familiar horse’s whinny in the distance. She’s off. Shinra, noting the coolness of your tea cups, cheerily announces that he’ll make more. You and Anri sit together quietly as the doctor tinkers away in the kitchen.

“(Y/N).” Anri speaks up. You hum, imploring her to continue with whatever it is she wants to say. However, even after gaining your attention, she hesitates. That determination still lingers in her eyes, but she’s clearly holding back. “What’s up, Anri?” you press. 

“...Why did Masaomi say that...about you and Izaya Orihara?”

You almost choke on the lukewarm tea you’re nursing. Her voice is low, but you still peek at Shinra in fear that he had overheard. His back is to the two of you and he’s completely still, frozen in place. You dread that your suspicions are confirmed, until he continues moving, carrying on like nothing happened. Perhaps he hadn’t heard over the clinking of pots and pans. You focus back on Anri, who stares at you expectantly. Her eyebrows are knitted together in an expression that you can’t quite place. Was it concern? or fear? Of Izaya Orihara, or you?

“W-well….he wasn’t lying. I did go to visit him,” you murmur, taking extra care to keep your voice down. You can’t keep your eyes from flickering in Shinra’s direction. “He’s helping me with something.” She doesn’t seem at all satisfied with that answer, gaze flickering back to her lap. Her face is contemplative, as if she’s choosing her next words carefully. “That man...I’ve learned things about him. He’s not a good person. I-I know you probably have a good reason, but I don’t want him to hurt anyone else close to me.”

‘Anyone else’? Your heart drops at her words. It’s not like you were naive enough to think that Izaya had never gotten caught up in shady business, but to mess with the life of a teenage girl? Was he really sick enough to do something like that? Mixed emotions swirled in your chest. Anyone that does such horrible things is not alright with you. Despite that...you couldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear.

“Do you remember what I told you, about losing my memory?” you start. She nods earnestly. “I was a hypocrite, telling you not to worry about the past. The truth is...I worry about it all the time, Anri. My entire upbringing...it disappeared. I know little to nothing about _myself_ —and I’ve tried everything I could to change that! But it’s _so hard_ for some reason.” You realize that you’ve lost yourself in your own words, even forgetting to keep your voice down. Shinra doesn’t look any the wiser, and from what you learned earlier, you would know if he was eavesdropping. Despite this, you lower your voice again. “I’ll be careful, I promise—but I just need this _one little thing_. Then I’ll be done.”

Anri opens her mouth to respond, when two hands holding teacups appear in front of each of you. Shinra addresses you both with a smile, setting the cups down in front of you and taking your old ones. You thank him, immediately grabbing the new cup and taking a large sip. “Whew, I never get tired of a good cup of tea! I think I’ve become a bit of a chaiphile,” you jest, very obviously trying to change subjects. As you take another long drink, you notice Shinra’s eyes on you. His gaze is glued to you, and while the smile is still present on his face, something about it is off-putting to you.

The brief silence is interrupted by a doorbell. Shinra loudly answers, going to greet whoever it is. Was Celty back with Mikado already? Looks like she could move pretty fast. The silence that follows the door opening momentarily gratifies the impression. However, Shinra’s distressed exclamations immediately peaked your concern. “Goodness gracious! What happened to you??”

“Isn’t it obvious?” A masculine voice answers him. _Is that….?_ “I was shot.” 

You’re on your feet before you can even register it, hurrying to the foyer with Anri in tow. The voices of Shinra and the other person are muffled less and less as you approach the door. To your horror, your suspicions are confirmed when you open it. Anri gasps behind you, just as shocked by the sight.

“Shizuo!” You gape at the man before you. Shizuo stood in all his glory, lax as ever—besides the fact that he was bleeding profusely from his leg and side. He continued to walk forward, only stopping when the sound of your voice alerted him of your presence. “Hey,” he greets you nonchalantly. You and Anri move aside as Shinra ushers Shizuo to the couch. He sits him down where you had left your damp towel a while ago. 

As Shinra leaves to go get his supplies, you go to sit back down. Anri, however, doesn’t move from her spot. She can barely look at Shizuo in his state, so she probably doesn’t feel comfortable sitting near him either. Still averting her gaze from the man, she whispers for you to go ahead. Shinra returns, setting down the tray of supplies and immediately getting to work. Sitting beside Shizuo, you have a front row seat to the gruesome spectacle. Shizuo gives a simple, detached explanation of how he had ended up like this. The way he described it, suddenly being on the ground and not even realizing right away that he was shot, this wasn’t all that traumatizing to him. As you wondered how he wasn’t feeling any pain, you didn’t comprehend that you had been staring directly at his wounds. Even as they were prodded open and bled by Shinra’s tools, you weren’t a bit more fazed than the doctor himself.

“What an idiot, right?” Shinra teases. Shizuo darkens at this, immediately threatening the poor man’s life. In a flash, Shinra is bundled up on the coffee table, apologizing vigorously. You huff humorously at the display. What an interesting relationship…

“Just hurry and fix me up already, so I can find those guys and kill ‘em!” He used the word ‘kill’ so liberally, yet he’d never killed anyone before--not even all of the Slashers that attacked him. “Both the ones who did it, and the asshole who ordered it-- _Masaomi Kida_ is a dead man!”

You could practically hear the scratch of a record. Anri immediately locks eyes with you, both of you feeling the same whirlwind of emotions. Suddenly, you don’t take Shizuo’s threats as frivolously as before. Masaomi...ordered someone to shoot Shizuo? Did you believe that he would do that? Sure, he had definitely changed recently, but to try and take someone out like that? There had to be something wrong.

“Shizuo--” You go to say something, _anything_ that could sway the man’s anger, convince him that there was some sort of misunderstanding--because it _had to be_. However, you’re words are cut short as Anri bolts out of the room. “Anri!” you shout, running after her. Just as you reach the entrance to the foyer, her form disappears out the front door. You’re frozen for a moment, mind jumbled in a frenzy. 

“I’m going after her.” You say finally, grabbing the bag that you had left beside the couch. Shinra already has a phone in his hands, saying that he’ll call Celty. You nod hastily, practically flying towards the door. Subconsciously, you brush a hand over Shizuo’s shoulder. “Get well soon, Shizuo,” you murmur.

In such a short time, she couldn't have gotten far. As you reach the bottom of the apartment building stairs, your eyes frantically search for the girl--but no luck. Acting in a panic, you pick a random direction and start running. It was hard to calm the alarms going off in your head. There was no telling what she was about to do, but judging by what you two just heard, and what she had just talked to you about, it wasn’t anything safe. 

_Anri, what on earth are you doing??_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any poc readers out there? i'm black myself, and i was wondering how well i've done at making this story poc-friendly! i know im not the only one that has problems with reading some fics and not feeling represented, thats part of the reason that i wanted to try a hand at it


	16. Fall of the Dragon's Peak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cult of personality - living colour
> 
> "neon lights, nobel prize  
> when a leader speaks, that leader dies  
> he won't have to follow me  
> only you can set you free,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY sorry for the wait--gonna try and wrap this up before school starts!!

It becomes evident to you that you are running pointlessly through the night. Even so, you can’t bring yourself to stop, as time was fleeting, and Anri could easily end up in the hands of danger at any moment. You felt so utterly hopeless. After what felt like a lifetime of running, you finally ease into a brisk walk. You check your phone for any sign from Anri--a call or text, but to no avail. Huffing, you return the device to your pocket, scanning your surroundings. There was no telling how far you had gone.

“Out for an evening walk, are ya?” Your heart leaps into your chest at the voice. However, you quickly calm down as you realize that it’s a voice that you very much recognize. A large vehicle rolls into your peripheral vision, eventually coming to a stop. Erika’s smiling face would usually be soothing to you, but the urgent situation you were in didn’t allow for a moment of ease. However, your dread for Anri’s mistake was replaced by a different dread--one elicited by the sight of yellow bandanas around Saburo and Kyohei’s necks. 

You gasp, staggering away from the vehicle. The gang is visibly perturbed by your reaction. Silence hangs heavily in the air as you stare back at each other. However, the tension is broken by Walker’s laughter. “Oh yeah! Kyohei and Saburo look like Yellow Scarves right now!” he laughs. Kyohei and Saburo glance at each other before starting to chuckle themselves. You can only watch them, greatly confused. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it, alright? We’re in disguise.” Your heartbeat begins to slow at Kyohei’s reassurance. You’re clearly still on guard, though. “We’re on our way to the Yellow Scarves hideout. It’s time to put an end to all of this, once and for all.” The Yellow Scarves hideout! If Anri was trying to do what you thought she was, that’s where she was heading. You had to get there, fast.

“Okay, I’m coming with.” You approach the vehicle and Saburo, despite his obvious confusion, opens the door to let you in. Kyohei wearily eyes you as you crawl in next to Erika. “If you say so--but don’t think you’re coming in with us.” 

“What? Kyohei, I have to--it’s important.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? We’re in disguise, you’ll stand out even more than those two.” He nods his head at Walker and Erika, who you notice aren’t wearing bandanas. Honestly, he wasn’t wrong, it only took one glance at you to notice that something was amiss--especially in this stupid patterned shirt. “Got any extra bandanas?” you ask. 

“It’s gonna take more than that,” Kyohei scoffs, but you pay him no mind. Erika reaches into the back of the van and pulls one out, handing it to you. You take it from her, dropping it in your lap for later. “W-woah!” Walker exclaims, quickly covering his eyes. Kyohei looks back at the three of you to see what the commotion is about, but quickly directs his attention forward again. Saburo, after peeking through the rear-view mirror, does the same. Erika, however, is unperturbed. 

You had taken off your shirt in front of her before, after all. Ignoring the embarrassment of the males in the vehicle, you continue to unbutton your top, eventually pulling it off and discarding it. You’re not a bit flustered, considering the fact that you had walked out in tube tops more revealing than the black sports bra you were wearing underneath. You lean over and reach into your backpack, then victoriously pull out the object you were searching for. The black face mask was always in your bag, per the recommendations you had read on numerous traveling forums. After pulling it over your mouth and hooking it behind your ears, half of your face is very well covered. You fold the bandana into a large triangle and pull it over your head, tying it over your hair. 

“This enough?” You ask after tapping Kyohei’s shoulder, prompting him to look at you again. His eyes barely scan your form before he looks away again. He wordlessly unzips his jacket, tossing it back at you. “You’ll attract attention for a different reason. Put this on.” Assuming that you had won this one, you gladly put on the large article of clothing. It’s a little long, but rolling up the sleeves does the trick.

Since Saburo continued driving through the entire exchange, you all arrive soon after. He parks the van around the corner, not wanting to risk blowing your cover. It was a good call--that anime girl on the door could be recognized from a mile away. He grumbles when you point this out to him. You, Kyohei, and Saburo walk the rest of the way to the hideout. 

“What made you want to come so bad, anyway?” Kyohei asks. He’s more willing to look at you now. 

“My friends need help,” you explain simply. Even through your vagueness, he seems to understand, not pressing any further. You can tell when you get closer, because more and more people in yellow begin to join you. The three of you bow your heads, trying your best to blend in.

When you round a corner, your heart stops at the crowd of yellow-clad goons. Exactly how many members of the gang were there? You’d always had the idea that it was a small gang, but it looks like you were wrong. Kyohei did say that they had brought back up, but how much exactly? As the three of you waded through the crowd, you secretly scanned the area, searching for any sign of Anri or Masaomi. “Don’t follow,” Kyohei mutters quietly, before breaking away from the group. Splitting up seemed like a good call, but you don’t know how well you would fare if you were all on your own. You allow for some distance between you and Saburo, but you do your best to keep an eye on him.

The crowd gathers around a stage and you remember Anri’s recollection of what she had seen the night that she snuck in. A man comes forward and the crowd quiets down. You recognize him instantly. Horada surveys the crowd, grinning cockily. His smug demeanor sure doesn’t match his neck brace, or the bandages on his face. Looks like Shizuo had done quite the number on him.

The man sure was ambitious, that’s for sure. Quite the public speaker, as well. The crowd ate up every word he had to say, cheering at every sentence. As you scanned the different people, you noticed some were less enthusiastic than others, and some not cheering at all. Perhaps those were the backup that Kyohei mentioned. Horada intended to extend the gang’s control over not just Ikebukuro, but the entirety of Tokyo. It was a foolish thing to believe, but a part of you grew worried at the notion. 

“That damn Shizuo Heiwajima is gone! The only ones left in the Dollars that are still acting tough are his girl, with Kadota’s Gang!” You shrink at those words. Burying your face into the collar of Kyohei’s jacket, you wearily glance among the crowd, nervous that anyone would notice you. “So, we just gotta crush ‘em--then we’ll hit their leader, Ryuugamine…!”

Anything else he says after that falls on deaf ears. The enthusiastic yells sounding around you are muffled by your own thoughts. _Ryuugamine..._ that wasn’t the Ryuugamine that _you_ knew, was it? No, it couldn’t be! That doesn’t make any sense! 

_Emperor of the Dragon's Peak._ That name was distinct, so much so that Walker and Erika joked that it had to be a stage name or something. You didn’t quite understand everything about Japanese names, but you suppose it was like having _McHunterKnife_ for a last name. Seeing that it was, in fact, his birth given name, you found it very ironic. Now, as you stand here, surrounded by hollering gang members, you reflected on how revealing it turned out to be. 

Anri is connected to the Slasher.

Masaomi is the head of the Yellow Scarves.

Shy, awkward little Mikado...is the leader of the Dollars. 

Perhaps Celty knew what she was talking about when she turned to Mikado as the solution to the gang war. Where were they now? Would they be okay? Danger was beginning to invade your friends’ lives faster by the minute. Your eyes scanned the crowd for your companions. Kyohei’s gray beanie was hard to spot, and Saburo’s mop of brown hair wasn’t very conspicuous either. Were you surrounded by enemies or companions? The question drove you crazy.

One by one, heads began to turn away from the stage where Horada had just stepped down. Your heart rate spiked, before you realized that everyone’s attention was directed toward the entrance of the warehouse. The crowd parted down the middle, making a path for whatever force had suddenly overtaken the space. From your spot among the rabble, you can barely make out the moving figure as they follow the path. However, a space forms between the people blocking your vision, and you finally make out a head of blonde hair.

_Masaomi._

You don’t have to hold back your surprise, as you aren’t the only one shocked by the boy’s appearance. Considering the fact that he _was_ the leader, you expected to see him there--but the look in his eye sent dread shooting through your senses. To your confusion, none of the gang members, Horada included, had the same expectation, staring at the boy incredulously. Masaomi looks over at the crowd, searching everyone’s faces. You anxiously pull the scarf lower over your forehead. 

“What’s going on here!? I don’t even recognize any of you,” the boy gripes. “No one’s taking my calls...what’re you up to??”

“Well, looks like all of the those guys that didn’t want _me_ at the top ended up in the hospital--still recovering!” Horada laughs nonchalantly. “Oh, it was so scary!! Must’ve been the Dollars, right guys?”

Taunting laughter fills the air, and it suddenly occurs to you how...mature it sounded. This wasn’t the same group of scrappy teenagers that roamed the streets weeks ago; These were adults. The ones that crowded around that sleazy Horada and brought the horrors of the Yellow Scarves’ actions to new heights. Those foolish kids were gone now, crushed under the self-serving desires of some greedy slob--and that slob was trying to do the same to Masaomi.

Horada goads Masaomi, having no qualms with rubbing salt into his wounds. You don’t quite understand everything, but you notice how Masaomi bristles at the mention of an ‘Izumii’. It’s very clear that Horada and Masaomi weren’t comrades at all, but enemies. Especially when Horada starts talking about changing the name and color of the gang.

“That’s right! Everyone surrounding you right now? They’re all Blue Squares--the guys you hate!”

 _Blue Squares…_ the gang that your van friends had been apart of, but eventually left. They never told you exactly why, but they implied it was because of ‘creative differences’. Judging from the way that Horada was acting, you didn’t blame them for doing so. 

“It’s your own damn fault! All we had to do was take off our blue and ask to join, and you let us in so easily!” The jerks were hooting and hollering now, getting quite the kick out of their own sick antics. You stuffed your trembling hands into your pockets, looking through the mob once more. With everyone causing a commotion, it was easier to spot those who remained still. The closer you looked, the more people you noticed that simply stood quietly amongst the chaos.

Masaomi looks surprisingly unfazed, and when he looks up, you swear that you can see him smiling. He steps forward, causing the group of men closest to him to stagger back. So they’re still wary of him, huh? What exactly is he capable of…

The tall door grinds shut behind him, closing him into the space full of his enemies. He refuses to be cornered, however, continuing to approach Horada. He talks steadily the entire time; a normal life, his past, his fear, a girl he couldn’t save, his readiness to both die...and kill. You choke on a lump in your throat, frantically looking for Kyohei. Now... _give the signal now, before he gets hurt!!_

No one hears your prayer. In a shoddy attempt of self defense, Horada grabs a crowbar and hurls it at Masaomi. You barely conceal your scream as it collides with Masaomi’s temple. The clatter of metal against concrete rings throughout the warehouse, leaving a thick silence in its wake. A trail of blood trickles down the side of the boy’s face, pooling at his chin. Despite the injury, he remains standing, surprisingly sturdy on his own two feet. Horada, shocked by his resilience, orders his goons to attack the boy. Your viewpoint of the ordeal lessens in clarity as groups of men charge at Masaomi, swinging fists and weapons. It got to a point where you couldn’t see if he was holding his own or not and all you could do was listen to the clamor of grunts, falling bodies, and clashing weapons. Desperation wells up inside you. How could you just stand there and watch? You needed to do something, _anything…._

Everyone seems too caught up in the spectacle to mind you pushing your way through the crowd. You could see Masaomi now, and boy, did he not look good. Blood streamed past his chin and stained his neck and chest. Your heart squeezed itself at the sight of him on his knees, thoroughly debilitated. The feeling of a hand grasping your wrist stopped you in your tracks. You whirled around to face your captor, dreading the idea that you had been caught. However, you relax slightly when you see that it’s Kyohei. Your eyes flicker to Masaomi’s defeated form, silently begging him to let you go. He only shakes his head, subtly pulling you back to him.

He was right to stop you and you hated it. There was no telling what you were gonna do if you actually got up there, and it would have definitely blown everyone’s cover. That didn’t stop the panic that swelled within you at the sight of the gun that Horada was pointing at Masaomi. Looking at Kyohei, even he looks ready to spring into action, his grip on your wrist loosening.

A large man appears beside Horada, so suddenly that you hadn’t even seen him approach. However, the pipe in his hand that knocks the gun clean out of Horada’s grasp alerts everyone of his presence. You shoot a look at Kyohei, wondering if the man was one of his friends. The look on his face is just as bewildered as yours, however. If he hadn’t brought him, then who was this guy?

Horada grabs the guy by the shirt, shaking him roughly. Rather than cowering in fear, the man rests limply in his hold, head lolling backward. He was speaking coherently, but he seemed so _out of it_. “Sorry, I just feel like Mother would be upset if you killed this guy. In fact….”

You squint your eyes, staring closely at the man. His eyes were small on his face, but the shine in them was very noticeable. “I sense Mother is going to be here any second.”

The excruciating sound of screeching metal meets your ears and you hiss at the sudden sensation. Confused mutters fill the air as everyone turns to the source of the sound.

The tall, metal door--having just been shut behind Masaomi’s back--beared a large slash right down the middle. The air stilled for a moment, paused and waiting, before the pieces began to topple. A wince jolts your body as the remains assault the ground, ringing out with each impact. Peering through the new entryway, all that could be seen was darkness. Even the streetlights in the distance did very little to reveal the cause of such destruction. However, averting your gaze downward, you finally see her…

In such a large opening, she looks so small in comparison--but her stance implied anything but. Feet perched wide, Anri was clearly on the offensive. Her eyes glared red like two headlights in the dim night. In her hand, catching a glimmer just as bright as her gaze, a long sword rested. A sword capable of cutting clean through pure metal. She surveys the room, frantically searching. Her stern countenance momentarily breaks once her attention reaches the battered boy at the center of it all.

“M-Masaomi!” she cries, vermillion eyes wide with horror. Surprisingly able to move, the boy sluggishly turns to her. He mutters her name, voice so terribly weak. Anri doesn’t move, only capable of staring at Masaomi’s damaged state. Your attention is pulled from the standoff by a unusual noise. It’s so faint that, for a moment, you wonder if you imagined it.

The mass of darkness that whizzes past Anri immediately dispels your suspicions. Even at such a speed, you can still make out Celty’s bright yellow helmet skidding to a halt right beside Masaomi. Looking closely, you suddenly realize that it’s not just Celty occupying the bike. The green colorblock pattern of Mikado’s jacket is alarmingly apparent to you. The three kids stare at each other, sharing a brief moment of recognition. 

The unease welling up within you made you nauseous. No matter how much you tried to reassure yourself, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were in the middle of some sort of climax.

The Headless Rider. The Slasher. A man with superhuman strength. Kyohei Kadota. The van gang. The Raira Trio. A gang war. The Yellow Scarves. The Dollars. The Blue Squares. It had all been building up to something--one big breaking point fixed to overflow at any moment.

Would this be it? All of the tension building, secrets hidden, lives twisted and manipulated--was this the moment that it would all come crashing down?

For some reason, you hoped that it was.


	17. Highs and Lows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 21 guns - green day  
> "one, twenty one guns  
> lay down your arms  
> give up the fight  
> one, twenty one guns  
> throw up your arms into the sky,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love the girls in this series uwu

These kids were 15 or so, only in their first years of high school--yet they had already managed to rally together powerful gangs, master occult blades, and emerge victorious from the most grisly of brawls. They had formed such complicated relationships—ones that yanked them too and fro and sent them through all sorts of chaos. What were _you_ doing at 15? You didn’t quite remember, but you’re sure it wasn’t anything nearly as remarkable.

It couldn’t have been too different from the past year—sheltered and limited with little contact with others your age. Switching from that to life here in Ikebukuro, it’s a wonder to you that you didn’t suffer some sort of whiplash. Even with all of the mayhem that came with it, you wouldn’t trade this new life for the world—and that included the people that came with it.

That’s why you will do whatever it takes if it meant protecting your friends.

“Th-there it is, the Black Rider!” Horada’s voice cuts through the confused tension clouding the air. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s take that thing down!” 

You’re suddenly reminded of Horada’s little passion speech. As everyone begins to circle around your friends, you have no choice but to follow the flow of the crowd. You feel unbelievably dizzy, mind whirling with all sorts of thoughts, yet dead and empty at the same time. Your eyes dart to Kyohei, silently imploring him to act.

And this time, he agrees.

“Alright, do it now!”

A man grunts as someone suddenly grabs him from the back, tackling him to the ground. A lead pipe collides with another man’s stomach, wielded by someone wearing the same color. Someone throws a punch. Someone else yanks someone back by the hair. The walls of people surrounding your friends fell, devolving into a fight of yellow against yellow. Though, some turned out to be less yellow than you’d think.

You watch in amazement as so many of the Yellow Scarves, the ones who had hooted and hollered moments before, turned their backs at the wave of a hand. Kyohei sure did have a lot of friends, didn’t he? Said man had gravitated away from you, currently engaged in a fight of his own, though the effort was clearly one-sided. Several men came at him, but soon found themselves debilitated and tossed to the side. It was inappropriate to get distracted, but you couldn’t look away from the spectacle. His muscles flexed from use, easily shown through the muscle shirt adorning his form. 

Huffing, you mentally slap yourself. Now was _not_ the time. His back turns to you, and that’s when you notice a figure move into your line of sight. It’s creeping through the chaos, steadily approaching Kyohei from the back. Your heart leaps at the sight of the crowbar he raises above his head. The feeling of the ground beneath your feet is lost to you, but you’re sure that you’re moving. The steel is cool in the palm of your hand as you grab it at the very last second. The assailant swings his empty hands, unaware of your approach.

It takes mere seconds of staring at his own hands before realization dawns. You only have half a second before he notices your presence and attacks you instead. His head practically turns in slow motion. In a flash of panic, you swing the crowbar, whacking him at the base of the neck. He lets out a choked cry, tumbling forward and toppling to the ground. You watch his form with bated breath, worried about the damage you had done. A pained groan quickly soothes your growing anxieties.

“Thanks for having my back.” Kyohei’s face is covered by the scarf, but you can’t help but feel as though he’s grinning at you. 

“Where would you be without me?” you jest, pulling your face mask down to show your own grin. He shakes his head in amusement, before directing his attention elsewhere. Following his gaze, you spot Horada, cowering with his back against the wall. Kyohei advances on him with you in tow. The blonde frantically surveys the room like a cornered mouse, and when he notices Kyohei, his panic only worsens.

“K-K-Kadota!? Listen here...a-asshole!!” Horada gasps, trembling and slobbering with every syllable. Gross. 

Kyohei finally pulls down his scarf, smirking at the man. “So, this was all it took to fool you, huh? I guess letting just _anybody_ join wasn’t a good idea, huh?” You snicker at the way he uses the man’s own words against him. Horada, suddenly comprehending your presence, eyes you in bemusement, choking on his own words. “Oh, hey. We just keep running into each other, don’t we?” you jab, relishing in his cowardice. “Just so you know...I’m not _anyone’s_ girl.”

Masaomi somehow manages to pull himself up, but he’s clearly struggling. You quickly kneel beside him, pulling his arm over your shoulder to allow more leverage. He feels so light and frail in your hold, heartbreakingly fragile. When he’s finally on his feet, Masaomi pulls away from you. He stares at you silently, eyes ridden with an emotion you can’t quite place. His mouth opens and closes, and then you see it. Hesitance. Remorse. 

Melting in sympathy at the sight, you lean into his side, careful not to come in contact with any wounds. You rub a hand along the small of his back, smiling reassuringly. _No hard feelings_ , you communicate silently. _I’m glad you’re okay._ Three figures appear in your peripheral.

“(Y/N)!” Anri gasps at the sight of you. “What are you doing here?” You smile easily at her, amused by her wide-eyed stare. “What, you thought I wouldn’t catch up with you after you ran off like that?” you chuckled.

Celty, Mikado, and Anri join you, glowering at Horada. It’s cognitive dissonance, seeing those menacing expressions on such baby-like faces. “It was Saburo that reminded me,” Kyohei says to Masaomi, “When Izumii was arrested, there was another guy named Horada--who somehow avoided getting charged.” Horada visibly tenses at the mention of his name, whimpering under his breath. Your brow furrows in confusion. Clearly there was some sort of history here, one that someone would have to fill you in on later.

“Was it you who broke her legs?” Masaomi gripes, approaching the sleazeball trembling in front of you. “Did _you_ make Saki cry?? _Answer me!!”_ Saki--was this the girl that he had mentioned earlier? You could only imagine what she--what Masaomi--had been put through. Horada starts frantically searching for something, muttering rapidly about a gun. His refusal to answer only enrages Masaomi. He seethes with so much rage, that you fear that his injuries will render him dizzy.

A glint flashes before you--one that you register all too late to be the silver of a knife. Letting out a wild roar, Horada lunges at Masaomi. The boy is more prepared than his aggressor anticipated, throwing a swift punch at the guy’s face. His head whips back at the blow, nose leaking blood as he falls to the ground. Masaomi traps his weapon beneath his foot, leering down at Horada.

“I was gonna use this crowbar to bust your head open…” he snarls. “But Anri and Mikado--you guys aren’t like us. You...don’t need to beat someone ‘till they’re dead. That’s all.”

His legs suddenly give out. He drops so quickly, crumbling like an old wall. Mikado and Anri gasp in horror, dropping beside him and cradling the boy. They call out to him, crying for him to wake up. He seems to find an inkling of energy, managing to open his eyes once more. A bleeding Masaomi, cradled by his friends as they fret over him. The way they apologize to each other, try to explain themselves, coming to forgive one another without a second thought...it resonates with you. 

The moment Masaomi places his hands over both of their own, a dam within you breaks. You pull your mask back up to your nose, hoping to hide your tears from Kyohei and Celty. Naturally, they both notice your shaking shoulders immediately. Celty is quick to act, placing a hand between your shoulder blades in support. Kyohei only stands there awkwardly, eyes flitting between you and the kids on the floor in front of him. 

Guess he just wasn’t the sentimental type.

* * *

Horada managed to worm his way out of everyone’s grasp and ran off into the night. However, after the sight of Celty running after him, you didn’t have any concerns. Leaning against the wall, you glanced down at Erika and Walker, who had fallen asleep leaning against each other. The room was silent, save for the muffled voices of Mikado and the nurse outside the door. Masaomi was fast asleep in a hospital bed, wounds dressed and taken care of. Laying there, sleeping like a baby, he looked so young--as if he hadn’t just incited a fight with the fastest rising gang in the city, and technically won.

“Huh? Where’s Anri?” Mikado asks quietly, surveying the room. 

“Once she saw that Masaomi would be okay, she headed out. Said she had business to take care of,” you explained. The two of you glanced at each other with similar gazes of suspicion and concern. It was an excuse full of holes, and the determined look on her face concerned you in all sorts of ways. “I didn’t press, but I told her to text me when she got home and to call me if she needed anything.”

Mikado nods at that, partially satisfied. His attention shifts back to Masaomi. “Never thought the self-acclaimed playboy would turn out to be so devoted to one young lady,” you offer a gentle smile, attempting to calm the boy’s nerves. He only relaxes slightly, pity-laughing at your joke. You couldn’t blame him, it was all so much to take in.

How the boy had a girlfriend once, and when friction was rising between the Yellow Scarves and Blue Squares, they used the girl--Saki--against him. She ended up being hospitalized for a long time, and Masaomi carried that guilt and regret with him to this very day. It turns out, Horada and this guy, Izumii, played a huge hand in it—but only Izumii got arrested.

The only reason she got out of there when she did was the action of your own friends—the van gang. Turns out _that_ was the “creative difference” that made them leave the Blue Squares. You respected them even more than you already had.

“(Y/N), can I ask you a question?” You hum, prompting him to go ahead. “Are you...a member of the Dollars?” 

There’s no movement within you in response to the question--no tremors or leaps or pauses. Despite everything, it felt like any other old question. Your shoulders shake with quiet laughter. You almost feel bad when Mikado looks at you incredulously. “That depends...if the _leader_ decides to get them up and running again.” You playfully nudge him and chuckle when his eyes dart to Erika and Walker’s sleeping forms. 

The moment is interrupted by the sound of the door sliding open. That’s odd, neither of you were expecting anyone at the moment. The two of you turn to the door, only to see an unfamiliar face.

She’s short, with dark hair and matching eyes. The smock and roomy pants she wore made her seem so much smaller. You all can only stare at each other, taking in the presence of the other. Her slipper clad feet sheepishly rub against each other. “I’m sorry...I didn’t realized there were still people here,” she speaks softly, moving to close the door.

“Saki?” You say the name quietly, soft enough that if you were mistaken, it would go unnoticed. However, the way her head perks up confirms your curiosity. They had mentioned that the girl would be in this hospital--it’s only natural that she would come to visit. You smile at her amiably, beckoning for her to enter the room. “You’re visiting Masaomi, right? We’re friends of his.” Mikado silently gapes at the girl, mouth fixed to catch flies. He hacks and almost doubles over when you elbow him. Come on, you didn’t hit him that hard!

“Y-yes! We were visiting too!” he says a little too loudly. 

“Sorry about him, bet he’s just surprised that Masaomi managed to snag such a pretty girl!” She bashfully stares at her feet. Thankfully, she accepts the invitation, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. “So...you know about me, then?” she asks. You can’t help but feel that the question held more weight than one would notice. Did you know about her relationship with Masaomi...did you know about what happened to her? You avoid answering her question, stepping aside to give her a clearer view of Masaomi.

Saki hesitantly approaches, staring at the sleeping body of her companion. Searching her face, you’re surprised to find it absent of any horror or shock. She simply takes in the sight, eyes scanning him, his injuries, the rise and fall of his chest. “He felt like he had something to settle. With himself...with you. So he got into some trouble trying to make things right.” You answer a question that no one had asked, but you felt that she should know. “I don’t know exactly what the two of you have been through, or if you intend to forgive him...but the fact that you’re here is a good sign.”

Despite barely knowing each other, you have no problem resting a hand on her shoulder, and she has no problem receiving it. She gives no response, but you don’t mind. You share a look with Mikado and he thankfully gets the hint. It was a shame to have to wake up Walker and Erika--they were just too cute--but you figured that it was time to go. As you ushered the sluggish pair out the door, you took one last look at the girl standing beside Masaomi’s bed. She stood at an odd distance, eyes fixed on the boy. You sent a silent prayer to them before sliding the door shut.

Kyohei, having been picked up by Saburo, was waiting beside the van once you got outside. “Hope you don’t mind if I take my jacket back.” He gestures to the jacket still adorning your person. You pull it off, but hold it protectively to your chest. “And here I am, doing you a favor! You look good without it.” The man rolls his eyes, and you blame the darkness for the illusive redness of his cheeks. Still, you toss it back to him right before climbing into the vehicle. 

Mikado doesn’t take Kyohei’s offer to drive him home, choosing to walk instead. You don’t protest, but you hope that it’s not a long walk. As the van pulls away, you peek out the window just in time to see his back, retreating in the other direction. You had come to learn so much about your little friend, tonight. Yet, you only felt as though there was so much more left to understand.

* * *

**_Taro Tanaka:_ ** _Hey, everyone!  
_**_Setton:_ ** _Hey!  
_**_Sora:_ ** _What’s up!  
_**_Saika:_ ** _Hello  
_**_Taro Tanaka:_ ** _Oh, look! There’s someone new, here.  
_**_Bakyura:_ ** _Hi!  
_**_Bakyura:_ ** _Name’s Bakyura. Kanra invited me!  
_**_Setton:_ ** _I see, I met Kanra in a chatroom. Is that how you too met?  
_**_Bakyura:_ ** _No, we know each other in real life  
_**_Kanra:_ ** _We’re kinda like coworkers—at least that’s how it would seem on the surface. ;)  
_**_Bakyura:_ ** _When are you gonna choke and die, Kanra?  
_**_Kanra:_ ** _Yikes, that’s so harsh!  
_**_Saika:_ ** _That’s an awful thing to say….  
_**_Sora:_ ** _I dunno, I like this guy already!  
_**_Byakura:_ ** _My bad! Kanra’s just such an ass...  
_**_Byakura:_ ** _Had to!_

 ** _Kanra:_ ** _We’ve met each other in real life. Why haven’t you told them just how charming and irresistible I am???  
_**_Byakura:_ ** _√3.  
_**_Kanra:_ ** _Huh?  
_**_Byakura:_ ** _Your score on a scale of 1-10!  
_**_Byakura: √_ ** _3.  
_**_Kanra:_ ** _Are you saying that my beauty is so vast, mere numbers can’t begin to describe it?  
_**_Byakura:_ ** _It means that it’s too difficult for grade-schoolers to understand, so you better not show it to them.  
_**_Sora:_ ** _HA.  
_**_Byakura:_ ** _Excuse me. I gotta bounce!  
_**_Byakura:_ ** _Later!  
_**_Setton:_ ** _See ya  
_**_Saika:_ ** _Good night!  
_**_Taro Tanaka:_ ** _Byakura!  
_**_Taro Tanaka:_ ** _Don’t hesitate to come back again!  
_**_Sora:_ ** _Please!_  
**_Taro Tanaka:_ ** _You’re welcome here.  
_**_Byakura:_ ** _I will. Night!_

To have such a colorful character in the chatroom, it was refreshing. Although, it also brought a sense of melancholy over you. That kind of spunk and sense of humor, it reminded you of someone.

Staring at the unconscious boy in a hospital bed—that was the last time you would see Masaomi before he disappeared. Except for a note sent to the school, no one had received any word from him. You felt a great fear for the boy, struggling to fathom that such a disappearance could occur. Moreover, Mikado and Anri were also subjects of your concern. Just as they had the slightest chance of finding peace in their lives, something else had to get in the way.

Other than that, though—after that night, everything seemed to continue moving like normal. Horada and a few of his goons ended up getting arrested (for violating traffic laws, you think?) and as a result, the gang violence keeping people off the streets came to an end. You still saw a couple of Yellow Scarves occasionally roaming the streets, but they were docile, not causing nearly as much trouble.

Anri and Mikado continued school, and you would often accompany them on their walks home. It was obvious that something was missing, though they rarely brought it up. They seemed to be staying strong, at least—able to find even the smallest inklings of joy. It seemed that Mikado was willing to keep moving forward too, since...

 **admin@dollars:** _The Dollars are here. They’ll stay here._

The website was up and running, and naturally, everyone flocked back to the forums in celebration. They were determined to continue they’re righteous deeds, especially now that the Yellow Scarves had backed down. There may not have been quite a demand for heroism, now, but there would always be something to be done.

What you thought had been a climax, may have just been a peak in the grand scheme of the story. Life still kept twisting and turning, with the lows of a friend’s disappearance and the highs of a rising band’s resurgence. Your own story would keep progressing. After something as chaotic as that night’s events, you couldn’t predict what would happen next. All you knew was…

You had business to tie up with a certain information broker.


	18. Complementary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> small world - jack stauber
> 
> “living in her forehead  
> humming away  
> leaning in and falling  
> on anything,,

“Ack—c’mon!!”

Father never let you have a pet. He blamed it on all sorts of things; grooming, maintenance, allergies, the list went on. You didn’t press for long, opting to turn to cute videos on TV as a substitute. Out in the city, you expected to see more animals out and about. All you ended up seeing, though, were ravenous city birds, a couple of rodents, and maybe the occasional dog out for a walk. If you were lucky, you would have the privilege of a pet or two before the gracious owner had to continue on their way.

What you rarely saw was a stray cat—especially not one as adorable as the little thing running away from you. It was going so well, at first. She accepted the little bite of the snack you were eating, and even purred and leaned into your hand. She didn’t have a collar and looked a bit on the skinnier side, so you assumed that she was a stray.

Just as you were considering taking the poor thing home, the screeching of a large garbage truck scared her off. Watching her skitter off into the busy street caused you to panic, and you immediately ran after her. It was a wonder that neither of you were run over as you crossed numerous roads.

“Hey, it’s okay!!” you try to soothe her. She’s not convinced, slipping out of your grasp once more. The cat finds a narrow opening in the wall behind her and slithers through. You groan in frustration, running around the corner in an attempt to track her. It took you an infuriatingly long time to round the full span of the building. You were expecting her to be gone by the time you could round the corner.

When you finally reach your destination, however, she’s not too far gone. In fact, she’s only a few feet away, parked at a bench positioned against a storefront. She’s not alone, nuzzling into the pantleg of the young boy occupying the bench. You approach them, pouting childishly.

“And here I thought she was only sweet to _me_ like that,” you sulk, eyeing the cat reproachfully. The boy turns to you, most likely startled by your appearance. His face is very childlike, his round, brown eyes making it difficult to place exactly how old he is. “Is this your cat?” he asks, looking down at the feline currently circling his ankle. He makes no move to remove her, but he also doesn’t look too keen on the contact.

“No, just a stray I found. I was thinking about taking her home, but if you’re a finders-keepers sort of guy…”

He shakes his head, finally pulling his leg from her clutches. It sends the little thing toppling over, rolling onto her back in confusion. “I’m not much of a cat person. You go ahead,” he says dismissively. His voice holds a child-like timbre, but it’s worn in a fashion that only age could accomplish. He seemed...bored.

You simply hum in response, taking in his demeanor. Crouching to your knees, you coo at the cat, holding out your hand. Seeking a new cuddle buddy, she rolls back onto her feet and bounds to you, happily accepting the scratches and head rubs. To your surprise, she latches onto your arm, allowing you to pull her into your arms. You can’t hold back your whispers of praise, overwhelmed by the affection.

The boy is staring at you, you notice, scraggly eyebrows raised. His eyes survey your form, narrowed and analyzing. Unperturbed by his attention, you regard him with a smile. “(Y/N) Brigall. You are?”

“...Aoba Kuronuma.”

The snort you let out is obnoxious, but you don’t particularly care. The adorably perplexed look on his face dismisses any possible regrets. “Sorry, just….Ao. Like the color blue? Seems like some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. It suits you!” In the direct light, you can see the navy tint in his otherwise black hair. Had he tried dyeing it? Perhaps it was brought out by the blue shirt peeking out from his hoodie.

He honestly doesn’t look very amused, but his baby face keeps you from taking him too seriously. “Aoba,” you breathe in, trying to steady your quivering voice, “Are you waiting for a friend?”

“No, just having lunch,” he responds, gesturing to the lunch pail sitting beside him. Not the talkative type, huh? Maybe you should leave the kid alone… “What are you going to name her?” he asks.

The question catches you off guard. He looks at you expectantly, face still fixed with indifference. Snapping out of it, you look at the cat in your arms, holding her up to get a good look at her face. She stares back at you with wide, dark eyes. Her choppy ginger fur stuck out in all sorts of directions.

“Renji.”

“Renji?”

“Yeah, like “ _Orenji_ ”. Since her fur is orange, and…” You turn her to face Aoba. “ _Ao_ and _Orenji_ are complementary colors!!” Aoba chokes, pale cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. You chortle gleefully at the indignant look on his face. “Foolish...don’t name her for a stranger,” he grumbles, refusing to look at you.

“Don’t be silly! My cat _chose_ you...we can’t be strangers.” You hold her out, a little closer to his face. He looks at Renji out of the corner of his eye. The kind part of you doesn’t tease him for the way his gaze softens. Deciding that the boy’s had enough, you pull the cat back into your arms.

“Well, I won’t keep you long. Enjoy the rest of your lunch, Aoba! Nice meeting you!” You wave him goodbye, as well as you can with a cat in your arms, and return in the direction from whence you came. For a moment, you hear no response and start to worry. Perhaps you had pushed his buttons a bit too much for a stranger.

“Yeah, see ya…,” you hear right before you round a corner. You can’t resist the urge to glance back at him one more time, smiling mirthfully. Gently grabbing one of Renji’s little paws, you pull it back and forth as if she’s waving at him. It’s hard to see from the distance, but you’re sure he rolls his eyes. Finally rounding the corner, you laugh to yourself. It had been a while since you made a new friend!

* * *

“Figures you’d go for the fancy wet food instead of the dry food.” The numerous tin cans clink against each other as you jostle them in the bag you hold. “Not complaining, though. That kibble bag looked heavy.” You peek over your shoulder at Renji, who’s head peeks out of the opening in your backpack. She meows happily, still nibbling the treat you had given her to tide her over. 

You wanted to splurge and get all of the essentials; a bed, toys, a tree—but there’s only so much that you can carry all by yourself. For now, you settled for food, some small toys, and a little collar. You could probably just make her a little bed for now. Renji suddenly takes interest in one of your earrings, pawing at it. The bell on her collar jingles at the movement. You swat her paw away, positioning the backpack to move her away from your ears.

“Jeez, you’re just a little trouble maker, huh?”

“Woah, she talks to animals, Kururi!! Guess Shizuo’s into the nutty types!”

“To each their own…”

Those voices, you hadn’t heard them in a while, but you recognized them immediately. Sure enough, in your path stood those twins you had met a while ago. The bespectacled one grins at you unapologetically while her companion sports a consistently blank look on her face. “Girls! Good to see you,” you say through gritted teeth, ignoring their rude comments.

The quiet one, Kururi you think, peeks over your shoulder, indifferent eyes lighting up at the sight of your furry friend. “Cute…” she mutters. Looking at the cat ears decorating the hood of her top, you wonder amusedly if she’s a cat person. You pull the bag around to rest on your front and pull out Renji, who is very content to be held. “Wanna hold her? She’s super docile.”

Kururi nods, stars shining in her eyes as she accepts the small animal. Renji, though confused by the movement, quickly adjusts to the new set of arms, nestling into the girl’s chest. You notice how the other twin simply watches, eyeing the cat warily. “You can hold her too, if you want,” you offer. She vigorously shakes her head, even holding her fingers in a cross shape at Renji.

“Nope! No way! Dogs are _way_ better!” It matched her outfit, you guess.

“Well, if I see a stray dog, I’ll be sure to let you know,” you laugh at her childish antics. Kururi passes the cat back to you, eyes not leaving the creature as you place her back inside the makeshift cat carrier. “Anyways, we’re not here about some cat!! We’re _asking_ if you’ve got intel on Yuuhei, yet!” You thought they might say something like that. 

After your last brief encounter with them, you actually took the time to look up this Yuuhei they were talking about. It was a little tricky with just the first name, but you assumed that it had to be Yuuhei Hanejima, an actor that was currently very popular, especially with young girls. 

How they made the outlandish connection that he was related to Shizuo was lost on you. They even had different last names, for heaven’s sake! Though, you had to admit, the two did have similar features when you looked closely. Plus, Shizuo _did_ mention having a brother—but you think he would mention if that brother happened to be a _famous movie star_. A sigh tumbles from your lips, accompanied by your fingers pinching your nose. 

“You’re awfully pushy for a girl who hasn’t even bothered to introduce herself yet.” Weren’t manners a thing, here? They were still young, so you suppose you should cut them some slack. 

“Fine, fine!! I’m Mairu Orihara—that’s Mai-ru Oh-ri-ha-ra!” The girl’s hands move in enthusiastic gestures, as if she’s conducting a symphony.

“Kururi,” the other murmurs. 

Orihara. Mairu’s nonsensical antics, barely concealing a less innocent brand of mischief. Her impish grin is accompanied by a narrow stare that reminds you so strikingly of him. Kururi’s selective silence, eschewing all attention so that you don’t notice her calculating gaze, always watching and observing.

“Kururi, Mairu,” you address them both, trying to hide your sudden feeling of unease, “I’m (Y/N), a _friend_ of Shizuo’s—nothing more. Per our last ‘discussion’, I’ve never met this Yuuhei, nor do I think I ever will.” You hope that the eye contact you make with both of them solidifies the fact that you’re being sincere. Mairu crosses her arms behind her head, humming thoughtfully. You wait with baited breath, anticipating what she could say next.

“Oh-kaaay,” she drawls, feigning great disappointment. You feel your shoulders relax, grateful that you are off the hook. “But if anything changes, you better not hold out on us!! Once high school starts, we’ll be in the area _way_ more often. We’ll be keeping an eye on you!”

“Often.”

So much for getting these girls out of your hair. Well, if it came down to it, maybe you all could develop a positive relationship. There was a slight age gap, but if it worked out with Anri, it could work with them. Besides, they were... _relatives_ of that man. What did that mean for them? You couldn’t quite assume, but you wondered if they needed another adult figure. “Where are you girls headed to school?” 

“We’re gonna be first years at Raira!” You light up at the familiar name. This may be easier than you’d thought! 

“I have close friends at Raira. You’ll probably see me around there!”

“Huh—what’s an adult like you doing around high school kids!?”

“Creepy…” _God,_ _on second thought maybe you should just avoid them_! 

“Well you two don’t seem to have a problem with following _me_ around,” you shoot back. It’s not even like you were that old. How rude! Mairu titters cheerfully and even Kururi smiles. “Just kidding, kidding! We’ll see you around then, Miss (Y/N)!”

They practically dance around you, skipping past you and forcing you to turn around to see them. While you do let out a flustered huff, you find yourself chuckling. That is until Mairu says one last thing that digs directly under your skin.

“I do hope you don’t give up on Shizuo, though. The way he looks at you—Whew! I can practically _feel_ the romantic tension!”

Curse them for being so fast! They practically disappear before you can fit in a rebuttal. As you stand there, fixed to say something, you aren’t quite sure what it was you were going to say. _Don’t give up on Shizuo..._ what did she mean by that? Of course you hadn’t given up on him, he was one of your close friends! You just didn’t have the... _relationship_ that the twins thought you did.

You liked the guy, and you cared about him—but ‘romantic tension’ was so far-fetched. And he looked at you normally!! Maybe you caught him staring at you, sometimes. When you were caught up conversing with a mutual friend and he just watched silently…how did he look at you then? A serene smile plastered on his defined features. Gaiety swimming in his warm, kind brown eyes…

* * *

A paw to the face from your furry friend reminds you that you’re still just standing there. You click your tongue at her, murmuring that you’ll get her home soon. Your face is embarrassingly hot for reasons that you don’t want to acknowledge. The rest of the walk is uncomfortably silent, leaving you with your raging thoughts. You tried to think of anything else; plans for dinner, tomorrow’s outfit, possible cat bed substitutes, etc.

Anything but that man’s enchanting eyes.

So, the makeshift cat bed ended up being your lap. Despite the lovely pillow-blanket combo you had constructed for her sake, Renji insisted on cuddling with you in bed. At first, you were adamant about keeping her out of it, considering the fact that she had been out on the streets for who knows how long. When she wouldn’t budge, you were faced with the very grueling task of bathing her. As compliant as the cat had been before, all of that went out of the window when water was involved. A lot of hissing, spitting, clawing, and splashing later, the cat was wrapped in a towel, nestled up in your lap as you scrolled through your phone. 

You occupy yourself until you’re tired enough to fall asleep, texting back and forth with Erika and Anri and checking the Dollars forums.

 ***ALERT*** ( _Unknown Number) Attachment: 1 Image  
_ ***ALERT*** ( _Unknown Number) Attachment: 1 File_

Your eyebrows raise when the notifications appear on your phone. That’s odd; you hadn’t given your number to anyone lately. Opening it didn’t seem too appealing. What if it was something weird? After a short period of trying to ignore it, the red badge quickly got annoying. Maybe you would open and close it immediately, just to get rid of the notification.

Of course, the operation was not as simple, and you got a full peek at the attachments. It quickly dawned on you that it was nothing gory or creepy. The group photo of a bunch of middle-aged men had you thinking that it must have been some sort of wrong number mix up. Out of courtesy, you shoot a quick text to the sender. The response is alarmingly immediate.

 **ME  
** _Sorry, I think you may have the wrong number._

 **UNKNOWN NUMBER  
** _I do not._

The message was so curt and cryptic, it sent shivers down your spine. You hoped that it was a funny misunderstanding and not anything creepy. Once again, your message received an immediate response.

 **ME  
** _I’m sorry, may I ask who this is?_

 **UNKNOWN NUMBER  
** _No._

This is a very strange predicament. Whoever this was, they knew who you were, sent you these things, and insist on concealing their identity. It was certainly mysterious, but were you really in danger here? They looked like harmless photos; what did they have to do with you anyway?

You go back to the group photo. It was a group of men, varying in age but none of them younger than their early thirties. Upon closer inspection, you noticed that they were all dressed professionally, topped off with lab coats. The quality of the photo isn’t the best, and most of the faces are barely visible. One of the men, strangely enough, wore what looked like a white gas mask. Perhaps it was a piece of equipment? The only face you can really make out is the man on the far left and— wait…

You squint, zooming in on the man and even pulling the phone close to your face. _Is that..._ A face thin and pale enough that his sickliness registered even through the photo. His beard was unkempt, thick and bushy. A thin pair of glasses rests on the crooked bridge of his nose. His facial hair is longer and his eyes are obscured, but you can tell.

Father was in this photo. Was this a photo of him at work? He looked so old, though. A timestamp in the corner of the painting marked the photo to be about 4 years old. Goodness, had he aged backwards? You blamed the excessive facial hair for aging him so much—good thing he wore it a lot shorter, now.

The next item was a scanned pdf of a document that you could barely read. The whole thing was basically chicken scratch. At the top of the page was written “The Herculean Project”. At least, you think that’s what it says. With the help of the timestamp from the photo, you realize that the document was written shortly before the photo was taken. It appears that the two are connected.

Quite frankly, you have no clue what any of this means. You have a feeling that this anonymous person wouldn’t be much help, either. It was all very unfathomable to you and trying to understand it befuddled you greatly. 

Renji, finally dry, emerges from her towel cocoon and leaps up to rest her paws on your shoulders. She stretches her back and legs, leaving your lap to curl into a ball at your feet. “Not mad at me anymore?” You prod her with your toe. She lets out a ‘mrp’ in response. 

“Lights out it is, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p.s. that was Aoba when he’s not in Fake Bitch mode <3  
> also writing abt shizuo like that?? finna make me act up🥵😳


	19. Smooth Sailing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> killing me softly - roberta flack
> 
> "i felt all flushed with fever, embarrassed by the crowd  
> i felt he'd found my letters and read each one out loud  
> i prayed that he would finish, but he just kept right on,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyy how y'all doin😳

“Do you have a sister? Two sisters, to be exact.”

Displeasure was an expression that you had yet to see overtake the man’s face--but in that moment, it settled into Izaya’s features pretty easily. His eyebrow twitches, the corner of his mouth pulling into a grimace. He tries to fix his face, but he only succeeds in sporting a thin-lipped smile, eyes still betraying his irritation.

“I suppose you’ve met them. Well, judging by your appearance today, I’ll presume they didn’t pester you to death?” You guess it was normal for any man to be annoyed by his younger sisters. The immediate response to the mere mention of them was a little jarring, however. “No, not too badly. They’re a bit much, but that sort of energy could be expected of girls their age,” you try to laugh it off.

“Yes, well, it’s not just their energy. They try so hard to be unique, don’t you think? Taking on personalities directly contrasting each other...it’s such a childish schtick.” 

Your eyebrow furrows in deep concern. “They _are_ children,” you refute. The eccentricities of the twins’ behavior suddenly became more troubling to you. What had happened to them to warrant such behaviors? Did Izaya have a hand in it? Perhaps there wasn’t the greatest relationship between the siblings, afterall. The man notices your unease but does nothing to alleviate it. His signature smile returns to his face as he regards you nonchalantly.

“Well, you didn’t come here to get a background check on _my_ life, did you?” Your heart anxiously leaps into your throat in embarrassment. What were you doing, asking the man about his personal life?

“Right. I was wondering if this ordeal would finish soon. I hate to say it, but I’m getting a little impatient.” That was partially a lie. Had it been any other business consultation, you’d be content to wait for as long as was necessary. What really ignited the flames beneath your feet was the man you were engaging in business _with_.

Over time, you found your own feelings of distaste growing towards the man. You hadn’t forgotten about Anri’s warning--in fact, it sat very potently in the forewinds of your thoughts. He had brought harm to people, no doubt, and you wanted to scurry out of his wake before he could bring harm to you. He’s not visibly offended by your statement, nodding with an understanding that you can’t help but think is presentational.

“Well, I think you’ll be happy to know that I have made progress.”

Your ears perk at the revelation. You eye him hopefully, ignoring how obviously amused he is by your excitement. He reaches across the table between you two, fingers caressing a closed laptop that you hadn’t noticed until now. Pulling it into his lap, he opens it and begins typing away. Your eyes practically bore a hole into the little symbol on the case, prying with anticipation. The sounds of typing and clicking echoed through the room for what felt like forever. Each sound seemed to grow more and more deafening. 

The more time that went on, the more you realized how unprepared you were. What was he going to show you? What could he show you? What exactly were you hoping to see? Would you like what you saw?

Finally, Izaya’s gaze returns to you, he places the laptop on the table in front of you before turning the screen to face you. The rapid pace of your heartbeat reaches its peak as you take the first look...before slowing immediately.

“It’s just...a photo of me,” you muse quietly. You sound underwhelmed, but truly, you were astonished.

It’s a professional photo, taken from the shoulders up. The wall behind you was a weird tye-dye of different shades of blue. You resided at the center, the close-lipped smile failing to match your eyes. It was decent photo, although you cringed at your scraggly haircut and bland choice of a black t-shirt, as well as the scars and blemishes littered across your face. Besides that though, it was an oddly normal picture. 

Your gaze flickered up to Izaya, who simply returned your gaze with an indifferent smile. “Dissappointed?” He prodded, his tone similar to a Kindergarten teacher soothing an aggravated child. You don’t answer immediately, looking back at the laptop screen.

It was your typical school yearbook photo, one of a girl who hadn’t quite learned how to settle into her developing self yet--possibly sophomore or even freshman year of high school. She had your skin color, your face shape, your eyes, and your nose--she was you--but it felt as though you were looking at someone you had never met before. In spite of the excessive lighting, none of that light made its way into her gaze. She seemed so unhappy.

“Not at all,” you finally answer. “I look….” _Terrible_

“Well, no one is exactly pleased with how they looked in the past if that makes you feel any better.” He stretches his arms behind his head and leans backwards on the couch, smiling as easily as ever. “There is more, though, if you scroll.”

Your fingers move quickly over the touchpad, anticipating whatever else he had to show you. You come across a scanned document--an old one, at that. Even through the screen, the wear and tear of the paper itself is apparent. You, however, weren’t too hung up on that--not when the writing was much more interesting.

> _“Congrats, (Y/N)!  
>  _ _7th Grade High Honor Roll at Weaver Rollins Middle School  
>  _ _You’re doing great!”_

The gaudy certificate was decorated with bright stars and rainbows, obviously designed for a kid but refashioned for a middle schooler. Your focus flickers to Izaya, who looks very pleased with himself.

“Looks like you were quite the student,” he muses. A laugh bubbles up from your chest as you stare back at the certificate. It was so _foolish_ looking, and yet...it brought you joy. 

As much as you hated to admit it, Izaya’s words to you at the end of your first meeting had stuck with you.

_“...perhaps you simply lived such a boring, ordinary life that there's not much to find!"_

You were no extraordinary person, you’d admit that—but the thought of leaving no trace behind in your 19 years on this earth? It terrified you. Sure, there wasn’t going to be a picture of you accepting a Nobel Peace Prize, or a 100-page autobiography selling in bookstores, but there had to be _something_.

Yes, there were unflattering school photos and childish gift certificates. Stupid, trivial reminders of those mundane moments of your life. A drop appears on the table beneath and you realize that you’re crying.

“This is...amazing. Thank you,” you snivel, attempting in vain to mask your tears.

“My word, who would have thought this was all it took to get you so emotional? And I haven’t even brought out the big guns, yet!” You snap up to look at him.

“Big guns?”

“Unfortunately, even after all the waiting, I haven’t finished the job quite yet. A couple of days ago, I contacted the Board of Adoptions and Foster Care in your birth county. They said it may take a few days, but they’re on a search for your adoption papers as we speak. They may even be able to find a birth certificate, and by extension—the identities of your biological parents.”

You can only gape at him, astonished. Your _biological parents?_ In that moment, it’s easy to forget where you were—who you were talking to. All you knew was that you were sitting in front of a man who was doing things for you that you never thought would be possible. You can practically picture a halo of light glowing around him, exposing you to the gates of heaven.

“I’m...shocked. Th-that would be amazing!” Your face blossoms into an expression of utmost joy. It was a glee unlike any you had experienced before. The man only leaned further back, visibly pleased by your reaction. “Well, it’s the least I could do after holding you up for so long. I _do_ apologize for that. Hopefully, this combined with the compensation will be enough. How are you enjoying that, by the way? I’d love to hear your thoughts.”

It takes a moment for you to remember what he’s referring to. 

“The case, you mean? Yeah, it was...certainly something..” It’s mood whiplash, having to think about a murder case after such a pleasing revelation.

“Certainly stimulates your brain, doesn’t it? A writer for a struggling mystery column enlisted my help to provide new insights. Honestly, when I first read about it, I couldn’t begin to deduce a possible culprit. I was so hung up on the grisliness of it all! Especially that brutal stabbing!”

You wince at his semantics, not exactly keen to discuss stabbing at this time of day. “Surely, it wasn’t too brutal, as weird as that sounds...not brutal enough to get blood all over the crime scene.” You can feel your skin crawl as you grow increasingly squeamish. The statement serves more as reassurance for yourself than for him.

“Hmmm, but perhaps the killer was able to book it after stabbing his last victim—that would be an easy avoidance for the mess.”

“It wasn’t his last victim though.” You had just managed to fall into the rhythm of normal conversation. After Izaya’s eyebrows shoot up, however, you fall back into your initial sheepishness. Why were you arguing with an _informant_? Obviously, he’d know better than you. “Sorry—I just mean…he, er, _strangled_ the last girl without getting blood on her, right? So the stabbing couldn’t have been that bloody.”

You hope that you can dig yourself out of the hole you had fallen into, but Izaya’s silence only solidifies the idea that you’ve offended him. Your eyes awkwardly scan the room for purchase. When they land on Namie, they find that she’s eyeing you now, too. Jeez, had you screwed up? You hear Izaya murmur, barely making out the word “interesting”. When he notices your attention on him, he seems to snap out of whatever mode he’s in.

“My apologies, I was lamenting how _interesting_ of an insight that was. I can’t help but notice that you’ve assigned pronouns to the killer. Any chance you have an idea who it was?”

His interest in your opinion soothes your nerves, at least a little bit. Then anxious tension in your body begins to dissipate. “Oh, well, I had it in my mind that it was the Baseball Card Killer. There was the most evidence against him, especially with the trophy he took.”

“Ah, I see, you believe he took the kitchen knife that was missing from the scene?”

“No, he took Leanne’s hair. There were clumps of hair missing, right? That long, blonde hair--he probably fixated on it or something. It would certainly fit his MO.”

After going so long with the case, bouncing theories off of someone else felt like a release. Izaya’s interest in your opinions fills you with a sense of pride. That pride only intensifies when he starts writing things down. Had you provided him with a new discovery? He examines his notes with a look of almost feigned contemplation, scratching his chin for added effect. It was a bit much, honestly. You hadn’t said anything _that_ profound. Finally, he rests the notepad on his thigh, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hand. "What a smart cookie you are! Nice to know there's a brain in that pretty head of yours."

You can practically feel every drop of sizzling blood that rushes to your face. He throws the comment out there like it's nothing; Like it didn't just come out of nowhere, but the way he says it--smiling at you, eyes scanning your face so diligently...it makes you dizzy. Stop, (Y/N). He's an informant. A shady, smarmy, sly, good-looking informant. Gulping down your embarrassment, you laugh it off.

“By the way, do you happen to work from different phones? I got a text from an unknown number recently.” You scramble to change the subject and, as a result, bring up something you had almost forgotten to ask about. It wasn't just a mere attempt at dodging his words, curiosity regarding the text’s contents had plagued your thoughts for a better part of the morning. Izaya eyes you shrewdly.

“While I do admit that my line of work requires me to use different devices, I can’t say that I’ve contacted you from more than one number. If you don’t mind me asking, what did it say?”

That’s odd. You figured that it had to have something to do with him. What with all of his recent research, it would have made sense for him to find a picture of your father. “It didn’t say much, just that they were certain that I was the one they were trying to reach. They just sent a picture of this group of men in lab coats, and my father was in it—that, and this weird document titled “The Herculean Project”. I could’ve sworn that it was you.”

Your focus deviated from him for a moment as you search through your phone, intending to find said materials. When your gaze switches back to him, however, you find that his eyes aren’t even on you. No, they’re directed at something behind you. There’s a sheer animosity in them that sets your blood on edge. Taking a quick glance, all you see is Namie, eyes trained on her computer screen, unbothered as ever. What was he looking at?

“Oh, silly me!” Izaya’s voice pulls your attention back to him. The animosity has vanished, replaced by lofty nonchalance. “I _did_ have Namie message you. Forgive me, it’s been quite a busy week so I had her take care of some business for me.”

 _And you forgot…?_ Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His switch in behavior was odd. You couldn’t help but feel as though there was something you weren’t catching on to. “Okay...well, would you mind explaining a bit more? I couldn’t quite make out everything in the document.”

“Ah yes, the Herculean Project. I figured you’d like to know a bit more about your father’s work. His division is pretty underground, so I couldn’t find much—but I was able to dig something up. Simply put, it was a project designed by Brigall, himself; A sort of research plan regarding the flaws and advantages of humanity. Biological dispositions, and the like…”

He goes on for quite a bit, and as guilty as you feel, you can’t help but zone out. You had to admit, the whole science thing wasn’t your forte. You’re sure that Father’s work was brilliant, but you wouldn’t mind if the details of his profession remained unbeknownst to you.

“...does that make sense?”

He knows you’re not listening, if his wolfish grin is any indication. You nod dumbly, forcing a smile to feign understanding. 

It hadn’t occurred to you how much time went by with all of the idle chatter. You left Izaya’s apartment after yet another visit—but this time, there wasn’t nearly as much dread in your senses as the previous times. In fact, there was even a slight pep in your step. It was all going perfectly. You were going to get everything you need from him very soon, and then you’d be done for good. 

Everything was going according to plan.


	20. Ice Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> frequency - sylvan esso
> 
> "never talks about the same thing twice  
> trucks and records and paradise  
> that frequency, she's got a frequency  
> and I caught it  
> flyin' over me,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lil snippet featuring some more ~unsung characters~  
> longer chapters coming soon!!

_“Is the breakfast okay, dear?”_

_“Yes, sorry. I guess I’m just not very hungry.”_

_“That’s fine. Just take your time, okay?”_

_The man that was your father sat in front of you, eyes flitting between you and your plate. His gaze is affectionate, accompanied by a loving smile. It’s...comforting. This man, he loves you._

_And you love him._

* * *

It’s a bit of a long walk home from Izaya’s. Relief fills your senses as familiar landmarks come into view. Only a little bit longer, now. The orange hues of the sun barely peek over tall buildings, cascading its last ounces of light. After everything that’s occurred, it felt odd to be walking around alone like this. You practically felt invincible, having dealt with the things you had.

“(Y/N)?”

The voice was too quiet to recognize, but it came from somewhere close to you. You survey your surroundings, searching for its source. As your neck cranes to check behind you, you spot a familiar face. You smile mirthfully.

“Odd seeing you on your own. What’s up?”

Walker walks up beside you, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other holds a bucket of ambiguous tools. “You’re not going to torture me, are you?” you prod, eyeing the equipment with humor. The question seemed out of nowhere to him, prompting the raise of his eyebrows. Following your gaze, he chuckles when he catches on to the joke.

“Nah, I’m just getting off work! These are my tools.” He rattled the bucket for extra effect. You forget that the man was an ice sculptor. It was such a niche, unfamiliar profession that you found oddly charming. He hadn’t talked about it very much, opting to relay his usual interests in anime and manga and the like.

“Oooo, what did you work on, today?” The two of you begin to walk together, aimlessly wandering for the sake of wandering. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Turtle doves for a wedding. If you’d ask me, I’d much rather carve something more lively—a heroine in rustic armor, or a six-winged super beast!” You huff a laugh—how in-character of him.

“I’m sure you would.” To your surprise, his face falls. It’s an exceedingly foreign sight, seeing anything but a smile on his puckish features.

“My bad, I know you’re not really into those things.” His smile is apologetic in a way that’s jarring to you. What was this about all of a sudden? Of course, you didn’t understand every reference he made, but he was usually so unabashed about it. Was it because Erika wasn’t here with him? The two of you walk in silence as you wrestle with your thoughts. Looks like there wasn’t much else for him to talk about.

“You know what I’d like to see a sculpture of?” you say finally. He turns to you, awaiting your answer. “Phyria, from Super Tragic High School Life? A little morbid, but that image of her, walking away from her own massacre, holding that axe. God, that’d be a sight.”

He stares at you for a moment, and you can practically see a buffering logo hovering above his head. In a split second, his face erupts into a smile—even in darkness, you can even make out a lively flush in his cheeks.

“Oh my god, I’d never even thought about that! That would look so awesome—I could definitely do some cool work with the torn fabric of her uniform. I just learned some really cool drip effects that would look great for blood!”

As you happily listened to him rave, you internally sighed with relief at the boost in his spirits. Not only that, but watching him made you realize something else…

Walker’s kinda cute.

You bite back a choke in your throat as you dismiss the thought. _Ma’am, where did that come from?_ Of course, you had always acknowledged that he was a nice looking guy, but this realization held a different, embarrassing color. It’s not like you could help it, he looked so excited and you don’t think you’ve ever been this close to him. As your eyes trail his enthusiastic movements, you zero in on the redness of his hands, now free from his pockets. 

“What’s going on with your hands?” Without thinking, you grab the one closest to you, bringing the palm closer to you. He goes quiet all of a sudden, but you’re too distracted to notice. They’re flushed all the way through.

“O-oh, that’s normal. From the ice.”

You hum, brushing your fingers against the soft skin. His fingers are lithe, fitting for the job, you guess. Now that you’re looking, he had some really nice hands.

“These would look super good in some rings,” you think aloud. Sandwiching his hand between two of your own, you briskly rub your hands together. You’d seen people do this in the movies, and you wonder if it worked in real life. You take the bucket from his grasp and set it on the floor beside you. Taking his other hand, you repeat the act, blowing hot air for extra effect. Walker laughs a breathless laugh.

“You sure you’re an only child? From the looks of it, you act a lot like a big sister!” For some odd reason, the comment flatters you. What would you be like as an older sibling? Would you be less lonely? 

“Any better, or am I just making a fool of myself?” You look back at Walker, noting how flushed his face has gotten. “Oh, well, it must’ve done something—you’re face is all hot!”

He moves to pull his hands away and you willingly release them. To your satisfaction, they return to his sides, rather than his pockets. “Y-yeah. Thanks!”

* * *

_“Quite frankly, Shinra, I’m impressed with you. Who’d have thought you’d waste your breath on anyone besides your darling Celty?”_

“If any friend of Celty’s were to be hurt, you’d have her to deal with, not me. But I’d be there to see her suffer the burden.”

Izaya’s laugh is haughty, taunting. He was deeply enjoying this, despite how unforeseen it was. Shinra, on the other hand, was not taking much pleasure from the exchange. No, he could go the rest of his life without hearing this man’s voice—but he had to do this for Celty.

_“So, what are you asking of me, then? Leave her alone? She’s a client, Shinra. If anything, she comes to me.”_

“It’s never just a business transaction with you...Tell me, what do you want with her?” Another haughty, grating laugh. Shinra’s apathy is so clear—after all, it’s not Celty who’s in danger. Izaya can see right through that faulty concern, to that deep-seated _curiosity_. That doctor’s predisposition to dissect pieces into pieces until there’s nothing of interest left.

_“She wants my services. That’s all. Even if I told you, would you tell? Run off to your darling Celty?”_

Of course, Shinra thought, he wouldn’t admit it so simply—not when the biggest possible obstacle to his schemes was sitting in the next room over.

“Not Celty, no. But...maybe, _Shizuo_ would care to know about this. They’ve gotten pretty close, y’know. Looks like the _monster’s_ getting better at _loving humans..._ better than even _you_.” 

Sweet, sweet silence. For the first time since the start of the phone call, Shinra smiles.

 _“...you and I both know that that’s not even close.”_ The audible gritting of Izaya’s teeth is music to Shinra’ sears. It’s all the confirmation he needed. As usual, the informant was up to no good. He had entangled yet another unsuspecting insect into his web.

But would he do anything about it? Go to Celty, tell her of her friend’s debacle, and watch as she takes on the burden of fixing it? Was it his place?

The love of his life wanders into the living room, preparing for her ritual couch-potato time. Noting his presence, she types him a message. **“Who’s that on the phone?”**

Really, what could he do—except wait for the appropriate moment?

He ended the call without another word. “Telemarketer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> main character: hi  
> me:  
> side character with a cumulative 15 minutes of screen time per season: hey  
> me: !!!!!!!!!!!!! <<<33333
> 
> im so glad i haven't lost y'all!! thank u for being so loyal to this story :)))


	21. Wolf in No Clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> little lion man - mumford & sons
> 
> "weep for yourself, my man,  
> you'll never be what is in your heart  
> weep little lion man,  
> you're not as brave as you were at the start,,

**_Setton:_ ** _Feels like it’s been forever since I’ve had a day off_ _  
_**_Setton:_ ** _Anyone have plans, today?_ _  
_**_Sora:_ ** _Just getting lunch with a friend!_ _  
_**_Taro Tanaka:_ ** _I’m going to see a movie._ _  
_**_Saika:_ ** _Really? So am I.  
_ **_Byakura:_ ** _Sounds like you guys are hooking up!  
_ **_Sora:_ ** _Perhaps….an unprecedented reunion? O_O_

 **_Kanra_ ** _has entered the chat._

 **_Kanra:_ ** _Hello, everyone! Your dear friend is here!_ _  
_**_Taro Tanaka:_ ** _Hello there!_ _  
_**_Saika:_ ** _Hi  
_ ** _Setton:_ ** _Hey!  
_ ** _Sora: ‘_ ** _Sup!  
_ ** _Byakura:_ ** _Die  
_ ** _Kanra:_ ** _Byakura’s as hard-hearted as ever!  
_ ** _Kanra:_ ** _Anyways, have you guys heard?  
_ ** _Sora:_ ** _What a surprise.  
_ ** _Kanra:_ ** _Yuuhei Hanejima got a death threat!  
_ ** _Taro Tanaka:_ ** _The actor?  
_ ** _Kanra:_ ** _Yup! The internet’s going crazy over it!  
_ ** _Sora:_ **_Must be another prank, right?_  
 ** _Setton:_ ** _Anyways, since tomorrow’s a day off, let’s have fun!_

* * *

Next time you saw Mairu and Kururi, you’d have to personally apologize.

“Your brother is freaking _Yuuhei Hanejima!!??_ ”

“His name’s Kasuka, but yeah.”

With all of the chaos, it had been a while since you and Shizuo could hang out. When you invited him out, he had agreed—as long as you didn’t mind him stopping to see his brother. Of course, you had no issue. In fact, a part of you was curious to meet the guy. Shizuo obviously thought highly of him, and it had you thinking. What was he like? Did they act similarly? _Did they look similar?_

Imagine your surprise when he stops you both after getting burgers and goes “there he is”—and points at _Yuuhei Hanejima_.

Shizuo's brother was a famous actor? How does that even happen--and how hasn't he mentioned it. Thinking back to their physical similarities, you have half a mind to pinch yourself. Yeah, they looked similar, but the idea just seemed too ridiculous.

Said man was at the center of a crowd, making a spectacle for the camera as he interviewed random onlookers. Even from a distance, you could make out his sweeping movements and energy. He certainly had a presence for the camera. His behavior was definitely contrasting to Shizuo's. The two of you simply stood in the distance, watching. Is this what he meant by seeing? Looking back at Shizuo, you note the pure admiration adorning his features. 

"You're really proud of him, aren't you?" You elbow him with a grin, chuckling at how the admiration is replaced by brief confusion.

"Well, yeah." He answers like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

He seemed so _sweet_ like this. Just another thing that solidified how human he was to you. It was obvious how much he cared for his brother. It brought warmth to your heart and pride to witness such a moment. There’s some space in the crowd and you get a better view of Yuuhei--Kasuka in action. He was interviewing another couple. It was hard to make out from the distance, but they seemed young. If you squinted you could make out glasses and a color block jacket….

Wait.

Just as you comprehend the familiar faces, unrest washes over the crowd. The air was suddenly filled with frightened yelling. What was going on?

From the chaos, a man appears, tall and mighty among the small, cowering forms of onlookers. The glint of his knife, brandished high, is visible from you. The circle that forms around them gives you a clear view. The man is clearly unhinged, bearing an oddly crooked stance as he growls something at Kasuka. Your breath hitches as he advances on Kasuka, who stands only centimeters away from Anri and Mikado. 

_!Kanra:_ _Yuuhei Hanejima got a death threat_

Shoot. You had forgotten about that. Writing the threat off as a foolish prank, the whole situation left your head as quickly as it had entered. So quickly, that you didn't even think to mention the whole ordeal to Shizuo. Guilt floods your conscience as your eyes dart in his direction. However, you find no one standing in his place. A gust of wind brushes your cheeks as something rushes past you. The giant object soars through the air--flying, flying, flying….

Slamming right into the assailant.

Mortified silence developed into busy, confused chatter. Above that chatter, the sound of panting stuck out to you--the panting coming from behind you. Eyes wide as saucers, you turn to see your heaving companion. His legs are bent in a wide stance, energy still surging through them after an adrenaline-fueled throw. Further off to the side, you see the poor storefront of the burger joint you had just visited, now missing a large, light-lined sign. Welp. Wonder who did that.

Regaining his breathing, Shizuo simply walks off in another direction, not even bothering to take in the aftermath of his actions. You, however, still have your eyes glued to spectacle. As you go to follow him, your neck cranes to see the sight for as long as you can. Among the scurrying civilians, your eyes lock with another’s.

Kasuka stares back at you. He seems oddly unperturbed, given the previous events. Mesmerized by the blank expression on his face, you return his gaze until the very last second that you have to walk away. You follow Shizuo silently, taking in his heavy footsteps and the tension in his shoulders. Nothing seemed like the right thing to say, so you just continued to walk with him. As the two of you walked further, you could hear a voice in the distance. A high-pitched, youthful voice. A familiar voice.

“Yuuhei!! Yuuhei!!’

You rounded a corner and, when you saw the Orihara twins hanging from a truck by their hoodies, your jaw dropped. 

“Let us down, Shizuo,” Kururi pleads as the man approaches.

You watch as he reaches up, grabs them by the hood, and lifts them from the truck. Just as you think he’s about to put them down, he turns, carrying them over to a nearby building….then tosses them through an open door. In one fell swoop, he shuts the door and proceeds to push an entire vending machine in front of it. You can only gape as he leans back on the wall behind him.

“Wha- Shizuo, what on earth are you doing?” That seemed kind of mean. The sound of them yelling only bothers you further. Why would they need to be shut in like that--they were just two silly young girls…

“If you needed privacy to snog your girlfriend, you could’ve just asked! We can cover our ears!”

...on second thought, some people needed a bit of a time out. Still, you eye the man incredulously as he lights and takes a drag of a cigarette. Seems like he was really on edge--seeing someone threaten your brother’s life will do that to you, you guess. The shrill ringing of a cellphone cuts through the silence. Shizuo pulls his phone from his pocket and raises it to his ear.

You can’t hear whoever had called him, but the sound of their voice seems to take Shizuo off guard, his eyes widening. However, the surprise is quickly overtaken by hostility.

“So, who was that weirdo? Why’d you go out of your way to tell me that my brother was in danger?”

So he knew this would happen to Kasuka? Whoever was on the other line, there was no good will in Shizuo’s relationship with them. All you can make out is the static opening and closing of vowels and consonants. However, a sound in the distance causes you to zero in on your surroundings. The longer you listen, the closer the sound gets, and the more it seems to line up with the static voice in Shizuo’s cellphone. Someone was coming--whoever was calling Shizuo was coming. Your eyes shift back to the man, who is thoroughly engrossed in the phone call.

“And he just happened to be in Ikebukuro, right? And he just happened to be in the area--just happened to have a knife? Bullshit.”

The man who had attacked Kasuka...did this person have something to do with it as well?

“You’re pretty sharp...you really are an animal.” The voices line up clearly, perfectly. So clear, the person could be standing right in front of you.

They _are_ right in front of you. Shizuo’s head suddenly snaps in a different direction, eyes boring daggers. Following his gaze, your heart stops. 

He somehow managed to look the same every time you saw him; wolfish grin and predatory eyes. Izaya returned Shizuo’s glare, taunting him. You suddenly feel as though you’re standing in the middle of an open warzone. Briefly, the image of a flying traffic sign comes to mind. 

“You’re correct--I told him Yuuhei’s schedule. I figured that if your brother was in danger, you’d come.”

Suddenly, your ears are ringing with the alarms that went off in your head. The men’s mouths are moving--but you’re too preoccupied to focus on their words. Your brain was too busy calculating, crunching the numbers; trying to figure out what the _heck_ is going on.

You’re not especially perceptive, and the previous absence of Izaya’s half of the conversation did not help; Even then, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out.

That Izaya had purposely attempted to endanger Shizuo’s brother.

You ran so many scenarios through your head--rationalizing, justifying, searching through any possible defense, but there was really no spinning it. He knew someone wanted to kill Yuuhei. He gave them his location. He encouraged them to kill him.

What if Shizuo hadn’t been there? What if he had looked away and missed that split second that the man approached Kasuka? What if someone else had gotten hurt, or worse, killed?

Izaya would be responsible for it.

Izaya would be a murderer.

Said man moves abruptly, sharply. With a flick of his arm, he sends something shiny flying in Shizuo’s direction. You yelp, panic flooding your senses as the small blade shoots through the air. To your astonishment, the projectile is caught between Shizuo’s teeth, then promptly grinded into pieces. This was insane. It felt as though you had only blinked, and they were off--leaving you in a cloud of dust. You had never paid witness to one of their fights. The one time you got close, you ended up in a doctor’s apartment. You wonder if that’s why you’re still glued in place. Who's to say that you, or someone else, wouldn’t get hurt?

Perhaps Shizuo would take the care to watch out, but Izaya? It only now occurred to you what that man was capable of.

“Shizuo…? Are you still there?”

The juvenile voice momentarily distracts you from your own growing feeling of dread. If Shizuo was this preoccupied, there’s no way he’s going to remember to let Mairu and Kururi out. You sigh, returning to the door behind which they were enclosed. Leaning your entire body against the vending machine, you begin to push with all your might. To your surprise, it’s fairly light, scooting over with little effort. You pull open the door to reveal Mairu and Kururi, who shield their eyes from the sudden influx of light.

“(Y/N)! You saved us! That settles it, you’ve officially moved up on my list,” Mairu confidently flashes a thumbs up. Kururi silently nods.

You’re not sure you even want to be on that list. Ignoring their shenanigans, you take off in the same direction Shizuo had. You had a really bad feeling.

It’s easy to follow the two’s trail, considering the carnage they’ve left behind. However, after a certain point, _everywhere_ is carnage--or more accurately, littered with relocated street signs. You’re finally able to find your way back to the crowd of civilians, but it’s evident that more people have joined the fray; Yellow Scarves to be exact. 

Everything’s devolved into nonsense, honestly. Somehow, fists were pointed at each other, and a bunch of punks were brawling in the streets. It was causing enough mayhem to obscure the presence of Shizuo and Izaya. Narrowly dodging the flurries of limbs, you aimlessly search for at least one familiar face. Thoughts swirl through your head, straying into your central train and making it increasingly difficult to concentrate.

Anri and Mikado. Hey, looks like they’re on an outing together! How cute.

When did Celty get here?

Oh, there’s Mika. Wonder how she’s doing.

Angered shouting transforms into a confused panic. The multitudes of thugs fighting in the streets are...sinking? Squinting your eyes, you notice the black gunk collecting at their feet, pulling them downwards like quicksand. It was almost shadow-y, the way it misted and steamed. You swear you’ve seen it somewhere before…

Oh. Celty.

Silently thanking the headless woman, you take advantage of the sudden pause in action. With a clearer view of the area, you notice a path of dented buildings, leading further away from the heart of the crowd. Weaving your way through other onlookers, you scurry in that direction, fearful you may lose your path again.

It seems like every pedestrian was drawn to the commotion, clearing out the surrounding streets and walkways. Running down the empty sidewalk, the silence feels out of place following so much commotion. The only sound you can make out is someone else’s breathing, their brisk footfalls hammering against the pavement. The footfalls stop, outlived by the sound of panting.

Following the sound, you find yourself slipping into an alleyway between storefronts. Was someone hurt? Could it be…

Against your will, you’re already running all sorts of horrific scenarios. You brace yourself, poised to help and comfort whoever it could be that needed help--but when you rounded the corner, every protective instinct went out the window.

He didn’t deserve protecting, after all.


	22. Kettle Catching Pot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> human - rag'n'bone man 
> 
> "i'm only human, i make mistakes  
> i'm only human, that's all it takes  
> to put the blame on me  
> don't put the blame on me,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY THANKSGIVINGGGGGG  
> im so thankful for everyone that has been following along with this story!!!  
> i am ALSO thankful to finally release the chapter that has been my main source of motivation for writing this story in the first place. i've wanted to get to this point so badly and now we're here!!
> 
> so read very carefully ;))))
> 
> tw: graphic descriptions of murder, violence against minors

He’s not expecting your appearance. He can try to cover up that fact, but the minuscule widening of his eyes is the only tell that you need. “(Y/N)! Fancy seeing you here! Come to rescue me from that vicious bea--.”

“Save it.” The words are curt, but your voice carries less contempt than you intend. All that comes through is pure breathlessness; astonishment. Izaya’s eyebrows knit in fake concern.

“Why, is something wrong?” His voice was level, the same way it always was when he spoke to you. Calm and collected, like nothing that just occurred mattered.

“What’s wrong is that you’re a creep!” So many words flit through your conscious, you’re not sure that the right one came out--but you stick with it because it's true. He is a creep; a creep who no one trusts, a creep that hurt Anri, a creep that tried to get someone killed. A part of you cowers in fear of his reaction. The two of you are alone. All it would take was upsetting him, and he could do whatever he wanted to you.

But instead of the piercing glare and venomous scowl that you’re expecting, you’re only granted a close-lipped smile; stretching across his face in a Cheshire-like manner. “Is that so? And what makes me such a creep?” He was unmoved, staring you down as if eagerly awaiting your next move. The regard for his reaction is dissipating by the second, replaced by pure irritation, _anger_ even.

“L-like you don’t know…”

“No, please enlighten me! Here I thought I was doing right by you, pulling so many strings to get your request fulfilled--but if I’ve done something to upset you, I’m all ears.”

He’s stepping towards you now, arms open in some sort of grandiose gesture. You move backward to maintain a distance, strongly disliking the disparity between his eyes and smile. “Well, you know what? Forget about the request--forget about the whole thing! It’s not worth fraternizing with the likes of you…”

“And what _are_ the likes of me?”

His advancing doesn’t stop, and it takes you a moment to realize that he’s taunting you, relishing in each moment you recoil in fear. Well, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. You hold your ground as he comes closer, even stepping forward. To your annoyance, he only seems _more_ pleased with this.

“Manipulative jerks who jeopardize the lives of others for their own gain. Sorry men who have nothing better to do than to mess with innocent people. Someone could have died today, because of _you_ , do you understand that? You’re no better than a **_murderer_ **.”

Something flashes in his eyes, something dangerous. It sends a flash of panic through you and you’re suddenly aware of your proximity to him. You stand face to face with him now, the closest to him you had ever been. You take in his toothy grin, eyes fixed on his lips as they slowly part. He savors the words, tasting them, before tossing them into the air.

_“You’re one to talk about murderers.”_

The facade is broken. Your brain reels too much to take in the vision, but the dancing of that poisonous voice against your ears is enough to stir you up. Stumbling backwards, you struggle to digest his words. _What?_

“What?”

“Tell me, (Y/N). That case file I gave you--did you notice anything _odd_?” 

“W-why are you bringing that up _now_? If you think you’re going to pull me into one of your games, you’re sorely mistaken--!”

“But you see, I haven’t pulled you into anything. You’ve walked into it yourself!” He reaches into his coat and you tense all over. Was this the end for you? Killed in a secluded alley while everyone else was distracted? You wonder what instrument he planned to murder you with; rope, a knife, a gun…

A manila folder. He holds it high above his head before tossing it on the floor in front of you. You only stare at it, hesitant to reach for it. Noting your distrust, Izaya raises his arms, nodding for you to take it. Swiftly crouching down, you pinch it between your fingers and quickly regain your guard. Eyeing him suspiciously, you slowly open the folder.

“....It’s just the same case file.” Were you disappointed?

“See anything different about it?” The man prods. He talks to you like you’re a child in need of coaxing. Wrinkling your nose, you flip through the pages. As far as you could tell, nothing was different. All of the pages were there, you could read everything…

_You could read everything._

“Nothing’s blacked out…” you think out loud, momentarily losing your prideful attempt to resist his mind games. The numerous lines that you were unable to read before were now there, clear as day. “So you gave me a tampered copy. Ha-ha, silly me. Is that all?”

“Now may not be the best time, but I _would_ like to say thank you.” Your eyebrow raises.

“Thank you?”

“For your _stunning_ insight on this case. I must say, I’m impressed. Even I was a bit stumped, but, after our last consultation, I experienced a bit of a breakthrough. The order of the killings, the missing lock of hair, the Baseball Card Killer? You’re _brilliant_!”

A day before, you would have been foolishly prideful to hear those words. A naive itching within you to impress the enigmatic man that no one else could get through to. But now? The words fell flat with no effect. No, he was just trying to butter you up.

“Flattery’s not going to work. Literally, all of that was written in the case file.”

“Ah, but it wasn’t!” There’s an exhilaration in his voice that deeply unsettles you. Why on earth was he enjoying this so much? You flip through the folder searching for the page that you knew the most. When you find it, your eyes quickly scan over the words

> _Leanne Clarence was found in the pool. Cause of death was confirmed to be drowning. The autopsy also revealed that locks of hair missing from the victim’s head._

“...locks of hair were missing from the victim’s head--see, it’s written right there.” You don’t even know why you’re sitting here talking to him. You could leave if you wanted to--and you do want to, so what’s the problem?

Izaya reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a folded sheet of paper. Unfolding it, he holds it up to you, close enough for you to make out the writing--or lack thereof. It was a copy of the same page you had turned to, except that some lines had been crossed out--like the copy you had first gotten. “Except you hadn’t seen that before, had you?” He points his finger to the exact line you were referencing and, to your perplexity, you notice how half of it was blacked out.

> _Leanne Clarence was found in the pool. Cause of death was confirmed to be drowning. The autopsy also revealed ______________________________________._

Your brain stops running for a moment, thrown off by the revelation. “W-well, I made an inference, so what! I probably saw how pretty her hair was in the picture and had the theory...what does this have to do with--?”

“Show me those pictures, if you’d please.” Scoffing at the interruption, you flip to the next page. Maybe if you just played along for a bit, he’d let you go. Glancing over the three girl’s pictures, you point out Leanne’s picture, deadpan staring at the man.

“See? Pretty blonde hair.” Izaya leans closer to the page, presumably to get a closer look. He appears to be in deep thought, humming inquisitively with a creased brow. You huff impatiently--what on earth was there to contemplate? 

“How’d you know that was Leanne?” Your heart rate spikes through the roof as his face splits into a smirk once again.

“Stop messing around! The pictures are labeled, her name’s right--” You turn the page towards you again, ready to point out the name to him. However, when you plant your finger on the page, all you hit is blank white. 

There were no words anywhere on the page.

You blink slowly, as if in the brief moment that your eyes close, the print would appear. No, that didn’t make sense. You could’ve _sworn_ the pictures were labeled. Maybe it had been somewhere else in the file--a description of each girl, a brief detail that let on to their identities. You continue to look through the folder, ignoring Izaya’s obviously growing amusement. Suddenly, the folder is swiped from your grasp. “H-hey!” You shout indignantly, seething at the man who now dangled the folder between his fingers.

“One more thing, (Y/N), and I promise I’ll set you free.” You scoff, crossing your arms. Taking that as compliance, he goes through the folder himself. The pace at which he flips each page is infuriatingly slow. Finally, he stops, planting a finger on a page before glancing up at you. “You said this to comfort yourself and you weren’t even thinking...but I found it quite fascinating. About the brutality of the stabbing. Do you remember?”

“It’s not exactly in the forewings of my memory at the moment.”

“Well, let me remind you!” His voice rises with glee, his eyes pinning you in a way that makes your blood curdle. He pulls something from his pocket--a simple cellphone. You raise a brow, silently questioning him. He gives no answer, simply pressing a button.

_“..not brutal enough to get blood all over the crime scene.”_

Wait...was that…?

_“Hmmm, but perhaps the killer was able to book it after stabbing his last victim—that would be an easy avoidance for the mess.”_

No way.

_“It wasn’t his last victim though….Sorry—I just mean…he, er, strangled the last girl without getting blood on her, right? So the stabbing couldn’t have been that bloody.”_

“You _recorded_ our conversations!?”

“I record all of my conversations--it’s kinda part of the job.” You could slug him across his nasty, smirking face--but you were more frustrated with yourself. How could you not have thought about that? How foolish you were...but it shouldn’t matter because you never said anything bad in the first place! You open your mouth to say so, but Izaya cuts you off, reading from the page in front of him.

_“There has not been a confirmation regarding the sequence of the victims’ murders, investigators have reached a relative consensus that the culprit drowned Clarence in the pool, then stabbed Harker to death in the kitchen after strangling Hall next to the pool.”_

> **_stabbed Harker to death in the kitchen_ ** **_afte r_ ****_strangling Hall next to the pool._ **

“Looks like you and these investigators are having a little disagreement...I wonder which one of you is correct!”

 _“_ _It wasn’t his last victim though_ _...he, er, strangled the last girl without getting blood on her, right?”_

So many thoughts were swirling through your head and you could feel yourself getting dizzy. Your lips scrambled for words, but no rebuttal came to mind--because what exactly was he insinuating? A murder that happened _four years ago_? You were a teenager, probably in school. Just because you had some random theories...doesn’t mean that you…

“You knew about Leanne’s missing hair, you _knew_ the victim’s names and faces, _you knew_ the order of the killings. Independently, these things could be a coincidence, but all together?”

This is crazy.

“It seemed outlandish at first...but I actually dug up so much crucial information, thanks to your request!”

You didn’t.

“The middle school certificate from the same city where the murder occurred, the school photo from the same high school that the three victims attended, _the same name as the fourth victim that is still missing to this day…”_

You _couldnt have._

"It all checks out--the culprit drowned Leanne Clarence, ripping her hair out in the process. They then proceeded to stab Katherine Harker to death, before finally strangling poor, poor Renee Hall...but it wasn't the family's housekeeper, no. Nor was it Matthew Hall, Renee's drug-addict uncle. It wasn't even the infamous Baseball Card Killer..."

_You didn't do it._

“Thats right--the culprit of the **Three of a Kind Murder Case,** the savage brute who took the lives of Renee Hall, Katherine Harker, and Leanne Clarence, is none other than **you...(Y/N) Brigall!** ”

You didn’t do it. You didn’t. You didn’t. You _didn’t you didn’t you didn’tyoudidntyoudidn’tyou didn’tyoudidn’tyoudi_ **_dn’tyoudidn’tyoudidn’tyoudidn’tyoudidn’tyoudidn’tyoudidn’tyoudidn’t_ **

The mantra flashes in your head over and over again like error windows on a computer screen. The words ring loud and earnestly, begging to be heard--begging to distract you from that lone, powerful voice beneath it all. The one that was getting through to you the most, no matter how much you resisted it.

You couldn’t resist it.

_It was you._


	23. et tu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> brutus - the buttress
> 
> "my name is Brutus and my name means heavy  
> so with a heavy heart i'll guide this dagger into the heart of my enemy  
> my whole life you were a teacher and friend to me  
> please know my actions are not motivated only by envy,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: graphic depictions of murder, stabbing, drowning, implied strangling

**LEANNE** **  
**_Sorry, I’m just now seeing this! Totally forgot I had a late shift after school today--Hope you got home alright <3 _

You stare at the message for the third time since you had received it, before scoffing and shoving your phone into your pocket. Pushing through the aching in your legs, you continued your journey home. Your lungs heaved dry air, labored by the unexpected cardio.

_Figures she fuckin’ forgot again_ , you gripe in your head, kicking a pebble laying in your path. Did Katherine and Renee forget too? That’s why they weren’t answering your phone calls or texts, right? You attempt to calm the simmering heat rising within you, but it only continues to hit you wave after wave.

It rides along with you as you trail past white picket fence after white picket fence. The houses tower over you, almost looking down on you as you pass. You can’t even look back up at them, ducking your head, instead. It would be foolish to walk with your head high, knowing that some wine mom in khaki shorts and Birkenstocks would approach you, ask if you lived in the neighborhood, and suggest that you leave to avoid frightening the local children. Stupid children. Stupid fucking elitist snobs. Stupid fucking mansions. Stupid fucking neighborhood.

Your head doesn’t settle back until the white fences are replaced by wire and stained wood. Tall houses are replaced by multi-storied buildings. Red brick was faded grays and browns. 

“Oh thank god, you made it--I was worried I’d miss you.” The heat is temporarily subsided by the sight of your mom, wrapped up in blue scrubs. She wraps her arms around you as you close the door behind you. The peck she lands on your cheek provides you with all the comfort you need.

“You’re leaving already? I thought your shift didn’t start until later.” You check the time on your phone, noticing exactly how late it had gotten during your trek home. 

“I’m picking up some overtime to help with some bills. What kept you out for so long?” She leans against the doorframe in lax concern, but you can pick out the suspicion in her eyes. _Did those girls flake on you again?_

“Volunteering opportunity after school. Came up last minute, but I figured I needed the hours. Renee drove me home after.” You sift through the fridge to avoid her gaze, knowing it’d only take her one glance to pick out the lie. Her sigh is all you need to know that she wasn’t fooled.

“Leftovers are in the freezer,” she murmurs, slipping into her shoes and grabbing her car keys. You exchange your ‘I love you’s and ‘be safe’s before the door closes behind her. You listen to the sound of a car engine and worn tires until you’re left in complete silence.

Then you were alone, again.

Homework was a breeze--it’s that point in the school year where the teachers are cutting the seniors some slack. As the sun stays up for longer hours each day, the kids spend more time partying under the stars on school nights. Not you, though.

You sat under an empty roof, filling empty hours with empty tasks, sleeping through empty nights into empty mornings, preparing for empty days.

You were a pretty good student, keeping up on your assignments and doing well on tests. Not that it mattered much to you, but you were on your way to being at the top of your class. Although, there is a selfish pride that comes from seeing your name above those of your 'friends'. It's not missed on you how their teeth grit as they wish you a forced congratulations.

The television plays in the background as you scroll through social media on your phone. Your dazed eyes can’t find the energy to focus on anything on the screen, instead finding interest in the flicking motion of your thumb. 

> _Galentines with my ladies!!_

It was a picture that Renee had posted back in February. You remember that party. The girls gathered and played childish games of truth or dare, even busting out the alcohol when Leanne’s parents went to bed. They didn’t pressure you to partake, but you noticed the glances they exchanged whenever you refused. You’re not in the picture--you don’t even remember it being taken.

> _Me and my beaches ;)_

April, spring break. You remembered when Katherine had loudly asked Leanne whose car they were driving to the beach. The other two shushed her, topping the volume she had been talking at in the first place. They had awkwardly glanced at you, forcing laughter and avoiding your gaze. Later, Katherine reached out and invited you to come with them--well, she said you could come if you wanted.

_“Oh, but our hotel room’s looking pretty full, if you want, you could buy out the room next to ours!”_

You didn’t have the pride to tell her you couldn’t afford a hotel room. Something tells you she already knew.

> _Ain’t no party like a hot tub party!!_

10 minutes ago. Leanne, Renee, and Katherine, toasting plastic wine glasses while they lounged in a brightly lit hot tub….10 minutes ago? You sat up from your lounged position on the couch.

What happened to Leanne’s shift?

A loud scream rips you from your thoughts and you realize it’s the TV. You had randomly chosen a movie channel--guess it was showing a horror movie. A girl on screen screamed as the killer hit her with an axe over and over again. It was gratuitously gruesome, but you couldn’t manage to pull your gaze away. You could only watch blood splatter, listen to blood-curdling cries.

You went on a walk to clear your head. The skies were freshly painted with colors of the setting sun. You watched as every last hue burst orange, then red, before fading into dark blue. As you aimlessly wander, you refuse to acknowledge how wired fence is turning into white picket--how multi-storied buildings become multistoried houses. The moon has taken the sun’s place by the time you stand on Leanne’s doorstep. The iron knockers feels cold against your fingertips. Instead of grasping it, you simply brush your knuckles against it. Should you even knock? What would you even say? Would they even let you in?

Your heart leaps into your throat as the door suddenly opens. However, instead of one head of blonde hair, there are two. Leanne’s parents stand in front of you, dressed up for a night out.

“Oh! Hello, (Y/N). We didn’t know you were coming!” Andrew, Leanne’s father, is the first to speak, glancing at his wife questioningly. Halley, her mother, nudges him scoldingly before regarding you with a smile.

“The girls are in the pool out back! We were just on our way to our anniversary dinner.”

“Happy anniversary.” You nodded, staring back at her. You note the twitch in the corner of her mouth. Her eyes shine with a hollow friendliness. Her daily act of kindness--charity work. She’s slowly falling apart under your gaze, stepping aside to welcome you into the large house. You accept the invitation, slipping past them--not unaware of the way their shoulders tense.

“Now, you girls behave! Don’t wait up for us,” Andrew jests. Halley squeals and swats the man on his shoulder. You simply take in the display, watching as they lean into one another until the door closes. Stitches, the family dog, excitedly weaves between your legs. Her small body shakes with eagerness as you reach down and scratch between her ears.

Your ears perk at the sound of high-pitched laughter. Surveying your surroundings, you zero in on the sliding glass door in the kitchen. Stepping over Stitches, you glide over to the door, peeking through the glass. The door leads to a small patio area, but through the windows, you can see the stairs leading down to the pool. You can make out the forms of your friends, splashing around in the large body of water.

Pulling the door open, your feet lead you through the patio and down the stairs. The cold tiles chill your feet as you walk closer to the pool. Their backs are to you, and the sound of splashing covers the slap of your feet against tile. As you come up to the edge of the pool, Katherine peeks over her shoulder. Her scream alerts the other two of your presence, causing them to add to the cacophony.

“(Y/N)!? What are you doing here?” Renee gasps. You tilt your head at her.

“Your mom let me in,” you say to Leanne. The three girls silently gape at you, eyeing each other in a silent conversation that you could most definitely understand. “What happened to your shift?”

“W-well,” Leanne sputters, “I ended up getting let out early! I decided some pool time would be a good way to celebrate--I-it’s actually perfect that you’re here because we were just about to text you!”

Katherine and Renee sporadically agree, even laughing, joking about you having a sixth sense or something. You don’t respond immediately, relishing in the tension that collects in their faces. “Huh, okay. Cool, then.” You watch them deflate, devolving into more anxious laughter. Leanne invites you to dip your feet in the water, and you comply. 

The night continues from there. It’s still noticeably tense, but the girls have managed to fall back into the same fun conversation as before you had arrived. As if you had never arrived. You’re content to wade your ankles through the water, mesmerized by how your feet seem to disappear in its depth. You don’t hear what was said, but the girls are laughing now. High pitched, piercing laughter. It rings in your ears and you feel your teeth clench. Your leg swings in a mechanical movement, sending a splash in its wake. The laughter devolves into startled squeals as the girls are sprayed with water.

“Oops, sorry...I was starting to fall in.” You don’t even meet their gaze, your eyes still glued to your wading ankles.

Renee huffs, pulling herself out of the water and wrapping herself with a towel. “I’m gonna grab a snack--anyone wanna come with?” 

“Yeah, I’m a little hungry too!” Katherine follows suit. The two of them glance at Leanne expectantly. She stares back at them before her gaze flickers back to you. 

“You guys go ahead, I had a big dinner earlier.” The other two girls eye her weirdly, but are quick to leave. You watch them walk up the stairs, the two already falling back into easy laughter.

“We’re being really nice here, y’know?” Leanne’s voice brings your attention to her. She leans against the side of the pool, resting her elbows on the tile in front of her. Her eyes don’t meet yours, zeroed in on one of her freshly manicured nails. “Letting you join us. You did show up to my _house_. Uninvited.”

“Oh, but I thought you were _planning_ on inviting me. Once you got off of your shift, of course.” You mimic her forced, friendly tone, drinking in how her fingers tense against the groves of the tile. Her eyes sharpen, finally making contact with your own.

“ _Look._ I don’t know why you’re acting so pissy right now--I’m not obligated to invite you to every single thing.”

For the first time in hours, the festering heat inside you was pushed aside. Stinging hurt eagerly took its place. Her words hurt because they were right. Who were you kidding? Leanne was a _childhood_ friend. People grow up. They change, and sometimes don’t even like each other anymore. 

But they don’t have to…

“What’s wrong with me?” You’re murmuring subconsciously, but when her head tilts in your direction, you take the opportunity. “What’s wrong about me that you don’t like me anymore? We used to be best friends...what changed?” 

Leanne sighs, as if the question is laborious to her...as if you expressing your feelings was inconvenient. “Society, (Y/N). We could march around acting how we wanted, dressing how we wanted, being with _who_ we wanted when we were kids. Now? I have a reputation.” Your temperature spikes suddenly.

“ _Reputation?_ What the fuck do I have to do with reputation?”

“No offense, but look at yourself. Sitting there, brooding?”

“ _Brooding?_ None of you are talking to me.” Your voice is starting to rise, but hers is as level as ever. She leans into her hand, not even making eye contact with you as she says such hurtful words. Her fingers twirl through her wet, blonde hair. Your eyes closely track the movements, finding that they only infuriate you further.

“Well, maybe if you spoke up more, you’d get people to talk to you.” A tug.

“I do speak up--you guys ignore me! I see the way you look at each other--like I’m _crazy_ \--”

“--Well, you must be speaking too quietly so we don’t hear you. You're helpful with notes and test stuff, I guess, but you don’t exactly wear the nicest clothes. You _never_ go on trips with us--at some point we just stopped inviting you.” Another twirl.

“You guys take random weekend road trips to the beach and fly out to concerts across the country and wake up on Saturday mornings for a spontaneous trip to _Disney World._ You know how long it takes me to save up that kind of money!” By now, the water pooling around your legs could be boiling. Your skin is excruciatingly hot all over--Leanne’s face is obscured in your vision by pure, bright _red_. Your head spins silent and loud at the same time. Splashing water and distant laughter echoes--and above it all, her voice.

“What I’m saying is--regardless of how _you’re_ feeling--we’re in an awkward position, too. We have to do what’s best for ourselves...I hope you understand.”

You don’t understand. Your childhood friend. She had known you for so long and she was pushing you away for something so _foolish._ Her _reputation_? If you had done something offensive, something to upset her--you would’ve been keener to ‘understand’. But no.

You’re not popular enough. You don’t dress nice enough. You’re not _rich_ enough. You’re not good enough. You’re not good enough. You’re not good enough You’re not good enough You’renotgoodenoughYou’renotgoodenoughYou’renotgoodenoughYou’renotgoodenoughYou’renotgoodenoughYou’renotgoodenoughYou’renotgoodenough--

“Yeah...yeah, I understand.” All of sudden, there’s no heat. No boiling water or steam in your ears. In fact, the temperature of the pool had gotten to you, and you had gone cold. Completely ice cold.

“Good. I’ll even call you an Uber home, since I'm such a kind--.” Leanne starts to pull herself out of the pool, but shrieks when you shove her back in. She opens her mouth to shout and in a flash, you’re in the pool with her. Her hands weakly grasp at your forearms as your hand covers her mouth. You shove her head underwater, watching as bubbles rise to the surface. She fights back, but she’s no match against the leverage you have. You can feel her yanking her head in desperation.

It takes too much time, yet no time at all for her to stop moving. Loosening your grip, you can feel her body sink away from you. When you pull your hands out of the water, you notice the loose strands of damp hair weaving between your fingers. You stare at your palms with glazed eyes. Your mind comprehends what you did, but your heart doesn’t. It beats steadily--serenely. 

Wading over to the shallow end, you walk out of the pool. The air chills your water-soaked skin, yet you don’t shiver. 

“Hey, I figured you’d get the munchies so I brought you some--Huh?” Renee walks out, holding a bag of chips. When she only sees you there, however, her friendly countenance drops. “Where’s Leanne?”

“I fell in the pool, so she went to get me a towel.” Her eyes scan the area, and for a moment, your heart pounds anxiously. She clicks her tongue and shakes her head dismissively--your pulse settles. 

“...Guess I’ll just wait here, then...where are you going?”

You’ve started to walk up the stairs to the deck when Renee’s tone grabs your attention. It’s sharp and accusatory. When you turn back to her, she’s eyeing you suspiciously. “I’m cold. I’m going inside.”

“ ‘Kay, well...just don’t eat anything in there. I know you might be tempted to smuggle some home, but Leanne didn’t order enough for a fourth person.”

You don’t respond, continuing up the steps. The door to the patio swings behind you as you breeze through the door to the kitchen. Katherine’s back faces you as she sits at the breakfast bar, scrolling through her phone. Her neck cranes in your direction before her attention goes back to her screen, not even bothering to watch as you wipe your feet on the mat by the door. “Leaving already? What a shame.” Her tone fails to match her words.

“I wanted to see what snacks you guys had. Leanne said she ordered some really good stuff.” She snorts, her shoulders jolting in amusement.

“Did she offer you some? God, she’s so fake. She doesn’t want you here, y’know. None of us do.”

Out of the three, Katherine was the worst at hiding her true feelings. Her verbal slips ranged from careless to borderline hostile. Honestly, you preferred it to Renee’s awkward side-eyes and Leanne’s forced smiles. Above being hurtful, her words were truthful. Apparently, that was the most you could ask for at the moment.

"She makes fun of you, like, all the time. Especially your clothes? Ohmigod, but _we're_ the ones she tells to behave whenever you're around."

The countertops are shiny, marbled shades of brown. They beautifully contrasted the white wooden cabinets and dark tiled floors. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling rack, freshly polished. What stuck out most to you, however, was the wooden block that sat on the counter. Blunt, black handles protruded from it, and if you pulled on one…

“You should really just go home. If you leave now, I won’t tell the whole school that you completely crashed our pool party…”

The silver of the blade shimmers as it catches in the fluorescent lighting.

“Honestly, who even does that? I mean, I knew you were strange, but that’s borderline sociopathic.” Talking shit is second nature to her. How else would she be able to speak so eloquently, all while her eyes are trained on her phone? Your bare feet pedal quietly across the tile floor. Your arm reels back slowly, wary of the wind that could be caused by the movement. You’re suspended in air for a moment, waiting and watching…

“In fact...maybe I’ll tell a few people--it’s too freaky of a story not to te--”

...before you plunge the knife in her side.

* * *

The hose is cool against your fingertips as you coil it around the reel. Renee’s body is crumpled to the floor, quickly losing the animation of life by the second. You stare out at the pool that holds Leanne’s sunken being. Walking into the kitchen, your feet narrowly avoid the pool around Katherine. A jingle meets your ears, joined by quiet whimpering.

Stitches sits in front of you, head cocked to the side with curiosity. Her body vibrates as it always does. You can’t look away from her shiny, black eyes as they stare up at you. Your body suddenly jolts as your senses are suddenly invaded.

Shivers racked your body. Cold air breezed against cold water, seeping into your skin and clothes. You were wet. You were freezing. 

Your muscles ached from the use of yanking and pulling and grabbing.

Your fingers buzzed and twitched with active adrenaline.

Leanne, Katherine, Renee--they were dead. You murdered them.

_You murdered them._

_Shit._ Your heart had beaten quietly all night, but now it was hammering in your chest. A pressure was building up in your chest--bile rising in your throat. You fight it down, choosing to take on the sudden nausea that made your head spin. You’ve fallen to your knees before you can even register it, the world practically swirling around you. All you can do is sit there and heave panicked breaths, relying on the cool tile against your skin to center yourself.

No matter how much you tried, nothing could calm you. Your eyes begin to sting with overwhelmed tears. The frenzy of thoughts flurried throughout your head, clouding your better judgement. Above it all, you could only comprehend one thing.

You have to get out of here.

You have to get out of here and get as far away as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will be going into some darker themes moving forward, so pls read at your own discretion!! i will write so that the plot will still make sense, even if u have to skip over some bits :)))


	24. ashes to ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> are you satisfied? - marina
> 
> "are you satisfied with an average life?  
> do i need to lie to make my way in life?  
> are you satisfied with an easy ride?  
> once you cross the line will you be satisfied?,,

You don’t remember when you had dropped to the ground, nor do you remember the tears that are blurring your vision. Your mind and eyes can’t focus on anything, simply swimming in the whirlpool of confusion, emotion, and energy. The sound of someone’s screaming cuts through the muddle. Yours. Your screaming. Screaming, sobbing, drooling, snotting. 

Shock at the revelation. Denial that you would do such a thing. Fear of your own capabilities. Horror at the implications of it all. 

Five years of depression. Even more years of self-hate. Hopeless desire to simply be seen. Deep-seated fury gone unhinged. 

Your heart is caught in a battle, split between two dispositions. An unassuming young woman. A bloodlust driven murderer. Two different people--they are the same person.

They are you.

“(Y/N)!” The voice is muffled by your own, so much so that you barely notice it. Hands grasp your shoulders, pulling you from your stupor sooner than you’d prefer. You jerk away on instinct, not bothering to catch yourself as you fall onto your side. 

“Fuck…” Now that it’s closer, the voice is more discernable to you. You spare a moment to force your eyes open. Shizuo.

The sight of blonde hair and brown eyes is usually a comfort to you. It _is_ a comfort to you. But mixed in with that comfort is more fear. Not fear of him, no--fear of yourself. You’re on your feet much too quickly. Your hand shoots up to lean against a wall, the other warding off Shizuo’s attempts to help. You choke down your sobs, attempting in vain to steady your breathing.

“What happened? Did that damn flea do something to you?” His voice raises in volume but it can’t set you on edge any more than you already are. Izaya...

Where is Izaya?

Said flea is nowhere to be found. You don’t remember when or how he left, or if Shizuo saw him. Your voice is not available for use at the moment, simply crackling out when you try to respond.

“Shit...j-just don’t speak, dammit, I…” Shizuo is clearly floundering for something to say or do. He’s not used to comforting, that much was clear. The evident loss in his temper certainly doesn’t make it any easier. He pats himself down before finally landing on his breast pocket. Pulling out his pocket square, he offers it to you.

You silently accept it, cleaning yourself up to the best of your ability. Amidst all of the commotion, you still find it in yourself to be embarrassed at him seeing you like this. “Thanks,” you croak, hesitant to give the cloth back to him. He gestures for you to keep it, to which you respond by tucking it in your pocket. The two of you stand there, avoiding each other’s gaze. He wants to ask what happened--you hope that he doesn’t. Your eyes pick up the twitch in his lips as they fix to form words. Panicking, you slip past him, making your way out of the alley.

“We should go,” you murmur, heart leaping at the look of confusion on his face. You don’t know where you’ll walk, but maybe if you walk briskly enough, he’ll be too focused on keeping up to ask more questions. You spare a glance over your shoulder. The sight of him helplessly following you made you feel bad, but not bad enough to slow down.

Following the sounds of the crowd, you’re able to relocate the center of the clamor. The numerous men that had been sunken into the ground are now restrained. You didn’t need any closer inspection to know that Celty had finished her job. However, you were perplexed to find that the woman was nowhere in sight. You attempt to wade through the masses, silently hoping that Shizuo will eventually lose track of you. All you wanted was to be alone, right now.

Your wishes have yet to be answered, as Mikado and Anri suddenly appear in your path. They spot you almost immediately, quickly approaching you. A quick check behind you reveals Shizuo in hot pursuit. You’re closed in. 

“(Y/N)! Did you see all that?” Mikado asks, his head darting between you and the group of thugs bundled together.

“I wasn’t there for it all, but I bet I can guess what happened.” You force a smile and a laugh, suddenly becoming hyperaware of the fresh sting in your eyes. Ducking your head and avoiding their gaze, you attempt to hide what an obvious mess you are. To your displeasure, you narrowly catch the worried furrow in their brows. Shizuo is standing there. You don’t know how close he is, but you feel like it’s too close. “Anyways, I should really be going now--Renji isn’t gonna feed herself!” As you back away hastily, your eyes catch Anri’s. There’s a concern, a sensitivity in them that makes your heart clench. Shizuo’s too.

“W-wait, you don’t need someone to walk you--” 

“No.” Your voice is breathless. A pressure is building in your chest that makes it harder for you to mince words. You’re eager to turn away from them, spinning on your heels in preparation to haul ass in the other direction. In your movements, you notice a growing shadow overtaking you.

“Watch out!”

You can’t decipher whose voice it is, not among all of the conversations occurring simultaneously. Especially not among the panicked screaming. All you can decipher is something above you--something growing in size. Coming closer.

Falling closer.

You remember searching for Izaya and Shizuo, fearful of the destruction they could’ve left in their wake. You remember said destruction; namely the myriad of street signs and stop signs lodged into the sides of buildings. You remember the particularly large movie theatre sign lodged into one of these buildings. 

The building right next to you.

It falls as if in slow motion, practically floating downwards. Your eyes trace the intricate patterns, noting how some of the lights still have enough electricity to blink. Your frazzled brain is absorbed in its prettiness. There is muffled yelling, and even shouts of your name. It’s a moment of suspension, almost serene. Finally, a moment of peace.

...before the hunk of metal is quickly plummeting towards you. Voices flood your ears, sharp, clear, and grating. Your arms shoot up on instinct, palms flattening towards the sky. Paralyzed, or simply not fast enough, you simply stand there awaiting injury-or death. Looking upwards, you are finally face to face with the sign--and suddenly everything is silent. 

All you see is darkness. Loss of consciousness. The end.

Quiet muttering. In the distance? No, surrounding you. There’s a tension in your temples. Rigor mortis? No, your eyes are screwed shut. 

A cool, textured surface pressed against both of your open palms. A weight beneath your feet, beneath standing legs.

You slowly open your eyes, expecting your vision to be flooded with some sort of blinding light, or no light at all. However, all you see are faces. So many shapes and sizes, familiar and unfamiliar, gaping in awe. Your neck cranes upward, nourishing your eyes with the view of your own two hands.

Upstretched, holding up the metal sign. Carrying it. 

It’s full weight is there. It’s heavy--heavy enough to crush you. You can tell it is...but somehow, here you stood, with so many eyes on you. Your breath suddenly constricts as you realize that the gaping faces are, in fact, actual people. Whispers fill the air as they all switch between looking at you and muttering words to their companions. 

You stagger backward, unsure of what to do with yourself. In a panic, you throw your hands downward, taking the sign with you. A crash rings out as the metal clatters against the ground. The hushed murmurs erupt into louder chatter. Scanning the crowd, you find the faces of your friends.

Anri and Mikado looked stunned...mortified.

Shizuo’s gaze is obstructed by those stupid sunglasses. You can’t make out anything in that expression, not with his lips pressed into a thin, straight line. 

An odd sound from above you meets your ears. Looking up, you see a helicopter in the distance. You can’t make out who’s flying it, but the way it hovers closely over your position in the crowd does not sit right with you.

It felt as though your body was still and moving all at once. Frozen in place, unable to grind a single, simple thought out of your stupefied mind--yet your heart races, sending blood crawling through every inch of your body, centimeters between the surface of your skin.

So, you ran.

Once again, you ran--seems like it’s all you know how to do.

* * *

_Had it not been for the warm summer air, you would have frozen to death. With some sort of twisted optimism, you lamented how the heaving of your chest was a welcome distraction from the uncomfortable sensation of wet clothes sticking to skin. The only light you had to guide you was the moon, and even that wasn’t very helpful as you bobbed and weaved between tall trees._

_You had been running for a while--but you can’t say why. Where were you in a rush to go? You couldn’t go home. It was only a matter of time before there were police on your doorstep. Hell, the neighborhood you lived in, it’d be the first place they checked. You were no mastermind or genius, there was no way you could outsmart a detective…_

_Most of you still sits back in bemusement at what you had done. You look down at your own palms and ponder if it was even these palms that did it. It was as if you sat in the audience and watched from a distance as the girls’ lives were taken. Something searing hot and foreign had washed over you, invading your senses and forcing your hand, before washing away and leaving you in a puddle of horror and regret._

_You’re doubled over, choking on air and panicked tears. All you wanted was to curl up in bed, and wake up to your mom sitting beside you. You wanted to feel her palm brush over your cheek again. Your mom, the only person who really believed in you...if only she could see you now. You could picture her soft features contorting in disgust and disappointment. It only made you hiccup harder._

**_I’m sorry._ **

_Sorry wouldn’t do anything for you now._

**_I’m so so so so so sorry_ **

* * *

**ERIKA** **  
** _(Y/N) I just saw the news where are you_

 **ERIKA** **  
** _It’s gonna be fine okay just tell me where you are_

 **ERIKA** **  
** _(Y/N) answer my calls_

That helicopter makes a lot of sense now. Looks like “Yuuhei Hanejima” had taken to higher ground to continue filming. Of course, when the commotion surrounding you occurred, the cameras must have found it much more interesting. In just half an hour, photos and videos of you from all angles were plastered over the internet. Headlines about an “iron woman”, eyewitness accounts of you threatening passerby with a giant sign, rumors that the one-on-one fight between Shizuo and Izaya was actually a three way fight.

Everything was going to shit. You didn’t think your head could hurt more than it already did...you were wrong.

Lifting your palm in front of your face, you squeeze your fingers shut before opening them again. It felt normal, like any other girl’s hand. Yet when you held that sign, they were capable of so much more. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of scratching and insistent meowing. Peeking over at your bedroom door, you catch a small shadow and little orange paws poking through the bottom. You roll over so that your back is facing the door. You didn’t want to see anyone right now, not even Renji.

After all, who would let a deranged killer near their loved ones?

Scrolling through your phone, your eyes flit over numerous missed calls and messages. It seemed as though everyone in Ikeubukuro who had your number was trying to contact you. Sighing, you continue to scroll through the new notifications until you’re looking through old ones. Many of your friends have moved to the top of the list due to texting you recently, so there isn’t much else at the bottom of the list. 

**UNKNOWN** _(read)_ **  
** _Attachment: 1 Image_ **  
**

**UNKNOWN** _(read)_ **  
** _Attachment: 1 File_

 **ME  
** _Sorry, I think you may have the wrong number._

 **UNKNOWN** _(read)_ **  
** _I do not._

 **ME  
** _I’m sorry, may I ask who this is?_

 **UNKNOWN NUMBER** _(read)  
_ _No._

Your scrolling stops at a thread of messages that had perplexed you so long ago. The number that Izaya claimed to be one of his burner phones. Reading back through the odd exchange, the claim made less sense to you. For him to contact you from a separate number and evade questioning, only to own up to it so quickly in person...it was exceedingly contradictory, even for him.

You open the group photo, immediately finding your father in the lineup…

Wait.

Father?

You jolt up into sitting, heart rate suddenly spiking. The quick movement isn’t good for your head at all, coming with a world-splitting pain that has you whimpering. As the pulsing finally subsides, you come back to your senses.

You were raised in a single-parent household, yes--by your biological mother. Your family was low-income and your mom worked countless night shifts at the hospital to make ends meet.

You’ve never met your father, you do not come from a rich upbringing, and you’re _definitely_ not adopted--so who the _fuck_ is that? How did you even meet him? How did you end up in his care, and _why do you not remember?_ You look back at the photo, eyes boring into the man’s pale, sickly face. A face that, for the past year, you had found great comfort in.

But now, as you stare into the glint in his thin frames, unease overcomes you. Your features tensed visibly, and suddenly your skin was shining with a cold sweat. Your brain may have forgotten, but your body knew--your heart knew.

The shine in his glasses obscuring any humanity in his gaze. His thin lips pressed into a thin, unreadable line--though capable of spreading into a toothy, wicked grimace. Wild, unruly facial hair that grew and grew, only furthering the animosity of his appearance.

No, this man wasn’t comfort. 

This man was torture. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i rly like fleshing out backstory and fleshing out the reader--but i know some ppl may just really prefer interactions with the characters--it is a drrr fic after all!!
> 
> I'm trying to find a happy medium--i want to continue focusing on reader, but I'll try to update frequently so that for every reader-central moment, there will be character interaction.  
> what do u guys think!


	25. retrograde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the good that won't come out - rilo kiley
> 
> "it's all of the good that won't come out of them  
> and all the stupid lies they hide behind  
> it's such a big mistake  
> standing here on this frozen lake,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the urge i had to put a song by avril lavigne cksdckdncacnald
> 
> tw: homelessness, starvation, implied torture

It’s been two days since you ran away from Leanne’s house.

After countless hours of aimless wandering, you’ve strayed from your home town. You don’t recognize the names on any street signs, but you could tell when you had crossed lines into another county. Thankfully, the area was much less populated than in your city. You were too skittish to even stand face to face with a person, let alone be surrounded by people.

You stand over a sink, splashing your face with lukewarm water. Before, you would rather die than set foot in a gas station bathroom. Now, you happily shut yourself up in one. A warm, closed-in space where no one can see you. You have a feeling that this would soon become a luxury. The sound of brisk knocking quickly dissipates all of your relaxation. Huffing through your nose, you reluctantly open the door. You duck your head as you exit, avoiding eye contact with the man who goes in after you. 

You idly peruse through aisles, procrastinating on your departure from the place. Your stomach grumbles as you look through the different snacks. If only you had money on you. A rapid jingle and loud female voice pique your interest. Looking around, you find that the voice belongs to a reporter on a beaten-up old TV.

_“This just in, the police have officially begun a full-scale investigation on a case discovered just the other night. Detectives are searching high and low for the person responsible for the deaths of Renee Hall, Katherine Harker, and Leanne Clarence--now sensationally nicknamed the ‘Three of a Kind Murders’. More tonight at seven.”_

Your eyes shoot open as pictures of Renee, Katherine, and Leanne flash over the screen. Any other reports are drowned out by the panicked ringing in your ears. Everyone else in the station seems thoroughly engrossed. A mother in the next isle shakes her head, before dotting her shoulders, nose, and heart with her fingers in a cross shape. You frantically breeze out of the store while everyone is distracted. 

You almost bump into an elderly man as you speed through the doors, but you don’t even stop to apologize. Gravel crunches beneath your feet from how fast you walk, and after you’re a good distance away, you begin running. 

Further. You need to go further.

* * *

It’s been two weeks.

You couldn’t go for much longer without eating--but with the morsels you managed to get your hands on, you were constantly hungry. As much as you tried to avoid it, it quickly became clear that you wouldn’t make it much longer without stealing. However, you were very bad at it. It took all of your courage just to snag a small apple from an outdoor market. All it would take was one eye on you, then the police would be on your feet--and it would all be over...

Leaning against an alley wall, you take the last bite of your thoroughly bruised banana. You toss it into a nearby dumpster, lamenting how you had finished it in what felt like half a second. After a mere minute of shallow satisfaction, your stomach growls again. You groan and slide down the wall behind you.

* * *

It’s been a month.

You cut off all of your hair. Going so long without properly washing it, the itch in your scalp was driving you crazy. You spent half an hour practically sawing it off with a piece of broken glass. It looked terrible, choppy, uneven and sticking out in all directions...but the itch subsided--in your scalp at least. Skin all over your body had angrily reddened with scratch marks from your own nails’ assault. There were days where all you could do is sit and hiss through your teeth, rendered immobile by the incessant crawling sensations.

Fast food places were the best sources of food. The dumpsters behind them, that is. They threw away a lot of food, sometimes still wrapped. The first night you discovered this, you sat and ate for an hour, feasting on stale burger buns and cold sandwiches. You felt a fullness in your stomach for the first time in God knows how long. 

You’ve saved every piece of change you’ve found. Stray coins on the sidewalk and in parking lots. You don’t know what you’re gonna buy with it, so you simply watch as it collects in your pocket. It’s not a lot, maybe three dollars or so, but the fact that you have it is comfort enough.

* * *

It’s been two months.

You used your change to buy a new shirt from a thrift store.

It’s getting hotter by the minute. Even in the shaded backways you lingered in, the humid air practically suffocated you. Sweat soaked your shirt constantly, and somehow, it was the worst out of all the uncomfortable sensations you were experiencing. It reminded you of the night you had thrown your clothed body into chlorinated water and changed your life for good.

You held your hands under a faucet, collecting cold water and splashing it onto your bare shoulders. The paper towel is scratchy on your skin, but it does the job of drying you off. The T-shirt is roomy and soft, hanging loosely over your body.

* * *

You don’t know how long it’s been.

You’re numb. The itching all over your body is simply a faint tingle. The grumble of your stomach is a mechanical ritual, simply a reminder to find a Burger King or McDonald’s that night. Some nights you don’t even sleep, the heaviness of your eyelids becoming just another numb mechanic. You don’t even mind that much when your clothes get all sweaty anymore.

There are days where you forget why you’re here, why you keep running. Why are you trying so desperately to stay alive? What do you have to live for?

You bet that, if you just sat there, you wouldn’t even notice if you just lost consciousness. You probably wouldn’t notice if your breathing stopped.

Couldn’t be any worse than your state now, could it?

* * *

It’s the third week of August, you guess. That’s what it says at the top of the newspaper you found.

That isn’t what catches your attention, though. You’re more interested in the small group of photos in the bottom left corner. There are six total, and above them all are the words printed “Have you seen me?” In the bottom middle is a photo of you.

You don’t know how you spotted it from so far away. It’s small and muddied up by the cheap, black and white printing. But it’s you. Below your latest school photo, in even smaller print, are the words _(Y/N) (L/N)._

Your mom. She was probably looking for you. You always complained to yourself about living in such an empty home--but you had just made it worse for her. The image of her coming home from a long, grueling shift, only to sit on the couch and watch TV by herself makes your heart ache.

You catch your reflection in a blacked-out window. Choppy hair, hollowed eyes, and sunken cheeks. Your skin flakes with dryness. Your vision blurs and you don’t know why. However, the wet sensation on your cheeks tells you that you’re crying. 

You’re crying. You’re sad. You’re hungry. You’re hot. Your skin itches. You miss your mom. 

You sit on the floor and cry until the sun goes down. Until the moon rises. Until the sun comes up again.

Then your heart is hollow once more. The only difference now is that your eyes sting.

* * *

This was the hardest it had rained in months.

A hot, dry Summer was transitioning into wet Autumn.

You were mid-sleep when the downpour splashed you awake. You ducked under a metal awning for refuge, but the wind was making it rain sideways. This late at night, everywhere within reach was locked up. All you could do was crouch into the wall, trying to ignore the rain washing down your back. 

There had to be somewhere with walls and a roof where you could hide. Everywhere that came to mind was too much of a walk away. Suddenly, you remember the dumpster building behind the chain of restaurants across the street. It would smell terrible, but you would be dry, and your sense of smell has been practically burned off anyway.

Bracing yourself for a drenching, you peek out from the alley. It was just a brisk jog across the street, then you would be home free. Without a second thought, you left the alley, hauling ass into the road. You’re not sure, but you think it’s raining harder. As you approach the line of buildings, you can see the dumpster just behind them. Just a little more…

CRASH.

You’re on the ground. Water flows around you, thoroughly soaking your clothes. Stars fly around in your view. Your ears are ringing. 

You attempt to crane your neck to gain a visual on your surroundings--but the mind-numbing pain that ensues puts an end to your efforts. There’s a dull slam--a car door closing. Two doors. Footsteps. Your blurry vision is flooded with white light.

“Looks like a girl, sir.”

“I can see that.”

The voices are deep. Male voices. Something nudges your hip and you groan at the sharp pain. 

“Should we alert the authorities?”

More footsteps. The rainfall suddenly stops and your vision clears just enough for you to see a black umbrella. A face comes into view. Your eyelids begin to feel like lead, making it difficult to focus. A large, dry palm lightly taps your face. 

“Put her in the trunk.”

Your eyelids fall shut.

* * *

_"I'm so glad you're alright, honey."_

_"Where am I? W-who are you?"_

_"It's me, sweetheart. It's your father, you're at home. Darling, you were hurt very badly."_

_No….that’s not it. Something else--Something before that._

The surface beneath you is cool and smooth. However, a warmth shines over you that keeps you from getting cold. You’re dry, sleeping somewhere clean and warm. As you slowly awaken, you notice how energized you feel--well-rested, even. For the first time in a while, you’re content.

As you sigh and nestle into your arms, you’re struck with a sudden realization. You don’t remember when or where you fell asleep. Your eyes shoot open and for a moment, all you see is white. You rub your eyes in an attempt to clear your vision, only to see white again.

You sit up abruptly and, surprisingly enough, there’s no pain from it. No headaches, no strain in your muscles, no sting in your bones. Your breathing shallows as you take in the unfamiliarity of your surroundings. The walls around you are as white as the floor beneath you. The entire room was a blank slate--so clear and clean that, for a moment, you couldn’t quite determine its size. As you look further, you notice a long, rectangular window high on the wall. It’s right up against the ceiling, which is incredibly high. In fact, the whole room was very large, only a bit bigger than a school gymnasium.

“H-hello?” You call weakly. Your voice bounces off of the walls and echoes back at you. Suddenly, the lights shining in the room begin whirring. With a sharp click, they brighten, practically blinding you. You raise your forearm to your eyes, attempting to protect your vision. “Hey! Is anyone there?”

_“So you’ve finally awakened.”_

The voice is level--calculated. It carries little volume, but it surrounds you. You whirl around to find its source, but the room is empty. When your eyes trail back to the window, however, you can make out a faint outline of a person; a man. “Wh-who are you? Where the hell am I?” You try to put up a tough front, but your voice is weak and scratchy from lack of use. 

_“Surely, you haven’t forgotten. I haven’t given you anything for that, yet.”_ The man subtly moves and the light catches him. The beams reflect in the glasses on his pale face. You recognize those glasses. The image of a bespecled man leaning over your incapacitated body flashes in your head. The car. Your hands rise to your own body, patting it down in search of injuries. There’s no pain, not even ridges of scarring. It's then that you realize that you're dressed in a white, paper smock.

 _“I’ve already taken care of your wounds. You’ve been unconscious for days now, so you’ve had plenty of time to heal.”_ Your head reels with mixed emotions. 

“Am I...in the hospital?”

 _“You are not...but I suppose you’d prefer not to be, wouldn’t you? Who knows who would find you then. Your mother….the police.”_ Your eyebrows knit in confusion. Although you can’t see all of him, you still turn to him in search of an understanding. “What are you….H-how do you--.”

 _“How do I know, you ask? A quick search through my resources. My facial recognition software found your identity in a matter of seconds,_ **_(Y/N) (L/N)_ ** _. And the months-old DNA on your clothing, well, that was just as telling. I have to say, I don’t pay attention to petty crime cases--but a teenage girl being the culprit? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.”_

Your blood runs cold. He knew it was you? Was this the end? Was this man some sort of detective? Had you been captured in your sleep and locked up for questioning? _“Oh, but don’t worry. I don’t intend on releasing you to the authorities--if you cooperate, that is.”_

If _he_ wasn’t the authorities….then who _was_ he? Somehow, you’re only more unsettled. You cautiously pull yourself to your feet, backing up further into the large space. The more you look around, the more evident it becomes that there’s no means of escape. Even with so much room around you, you feel cornered. “You didn’t answer my question--who the _fuck_ are you!?”

_“Should you really be so demanding? I’d acknowledge the position you’re in...but there’s no need to worry, I don’t intend to hurt you. In fact, this is gonna help you as much as it helps me…”_

The way he speaks does not sit well with you. At all. You keep backing up until your back finally meets the wall behind you. Spinning around, you bang your fists against the wall, dreading how sturdy it feels. Without realizing it, you’re yelling--crying out for somebody, anybody to help you. All the while, his voice echoes around you, droning in your ears.

_‘...I’ll make you resilient, strong, fast, durable--better. In time, you won’t feel pain. You won’t feel hunger. And when you’re finally finished, they’ll see what I’m capable of. They’ll never underestimate me again.”_

You bang harder and yell louder. Even as your fists ache and your voice goes scratchy. _Please. Someone help._

_“That being said…In the time you’ve rested, I’ve already introduced your cardiovascular system to the first trial of my work. Let’s not waste time...we’ll begin with the first test.”_

There’s a loud grinding. You look around frantically, anxious to find the source of the noise. However, the room is still that unmoved, pristine white. Silence suspends in the air, the only source of movement coming from your own labored breaths. For a moment, you start to calm down, beginning to feel a sense of relief...

_WHOOSH_

Something swings from high above you. Looking up, you see an open trap door--and something falling from it. It moves so fast, all you can see is the dark, metallic silver of the object. And that its heavy. Very heavy.

_“Do not push yourself, please act as authentically as you can--I’d like to see where I can make improvements.”_


	26. binary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> inside - melt
> 
> "i'm just a host to those who rule my mind  
> now I'm feeling this way all the time  
> they push me down  
> they're keeping me alive  
> and i don't know what's real  
> what's real or what's inside,,

_Izaya smirked at the scene before him. Standing over the ledge of a high building, his field of vision stemmed all the way into the alley below. In that same alley stood four people. Three of them, he had seen before. Three men--one stout, one lanky, one short. He had contacted Morita, the lanky, bespeckled man just that morning with a tip--something to help him with his less than savory career. The fourth person, however, he had never seen before--yet he knew exactly who she was._

_A new mark of his, (Y/N) Brigall._

_Said woman was effectively cornered, restrained by the youngest and smallest of the men. Izaya watched as Morita approached her with a cloth, no-doubtedly soaked in some sort of chemical. His eyes narrowed as it dangled over her face. For a moment, he felt a twinge of disappointment. He had done everything correctly, but he had yet to see the interest that was promised to him. However, the disappointment quickly dissipated as a shout rang through the air._

_The boy that had been restraining her was now airborne, flipping over and colliding with Morita. The momentum carried them both into the third man. The three of them tumbled to the ground. Izaya was so engrossed in the spectacle that he barely noticed the girl scurrying away. He hums at the sight of the men, sprawled out and incapacitated on the floor._

_Perhaps that doctor knew what he was talking about._

* * *

You wake up feeling like shit.

It took a few minutes to clear your disoriented head, but once you did, a wave of depression came with the clarity. It was 11:40AM. You had been asleep since yesterday afternoon, after you had made a spectacle in front of what must have been the entire city. Also, you’re a murderer. Also, your last name’s not Brigall. Also, your ‘adoptive father’ is not really your father, but some psycho who abducted you and tortured you for God knows how long.

Maybe you should just go back to sleep.

The sound of scratching and loud meowing dispels these thoughts. Could Renji sense when you were awake? Sighing through your nose, you swing your legs over the side of your bed. You pad over to your door and open it, looking for the ball of fur that you had been ignoring for so long. However, you barely catch a glimpse of her before she darts between your legs.

“Hey--!” She scurries out of your grasp and slides under your bed. What’s gotten into her? You drop to your knees and peer under the bed. It’s too dark to see much, but you can make out the swish of a tail right next to your headboard. You crawl over the bed onto the other side. “Renji, I know you might be mad at me, but this isn’t gonna do much.”

The cat returns your gaze, her eyes blown black by enlarged pupils. Oh, so she was just trying to play. You huff amusedly, finding a lightheartedness in how cute she looks. Cautiously reaching out, you poke one of her shoulders. She bats at your finger, rolling onto her side. You indulge her with a few more playful pokes until she’s fully fallen onto her back. Seizing the opportunity, you press your palm into her side and pull her out towards you. On an impulse, you quickly tickle her tummy. It felt like it had been forever since you’d smiled, even if it had only been yesterday. 

As Renji finally rolls back on her feet, something beneath her catches your eye. Allowing the cat to crawl into your lap, you pick it up. It’s a card, white with tons of words printed on it. For a moment, you write it off as something insignificant--until you flip it over. There’s a small photo of you. You stand in front of a blue background, lips closed in a neutral line. Next to the photo was your legal name, your real name.

A learner’s permit.

You allow Renji to slip from your arms as your eyes scan over the small writing. It was odd to see such official documentation of yourself after searching so deeply for so long--but here it was. Your height, your weight, eye color, hair color, your date of birth...

Your eyes stop scanning. Something doesn’t sit right with you. You pull yourself to your feet, still gripping the card in your hand. Your desk is in a corner across the room and mounted above it is a cute, paper calendar. It was flipped to the current month of November, and printed in the top right corner was the current year.

The current year.

Rushing over to your laptop, you pull it open, clicking the button to turn it on. It powers on, showing the selfie of you and the Van Gang that you had chosen for your screensaver. In the taskbar, at the very end, the date is shown. November. The current year.

You grabbed your phone off of the bed and turned it on. At the top of the screen, the date is depicted in white, digital numbers. November. The current year.

When you got here, you thought that you were (Y/N) Brigall, adopted daughter of Neville Brigall, 19.

But, no--you were (Y/N) (L/N), a single mother’s daughter….23.

You were 23.

The permit slips from your grasp, clicking softly against the hardwood floor. Oddly enough, your heart was still, as if it couldn’t even find the strength to beat anymore. No, you were too tired to spiral again. All you could do was stand there in awe. Four years of your life. Those memories were spotty, floating somewhere in your subconscious. But you left them there, knowing that they were probably spent at the hands of some sadistic scientist.

And what had he done to your body? Made you stronger? ‘Better’? Stripped you of all you were--your memories, your personality. Turned you into this naive, air-headed little girl. Made you parade around in these stupid, stupid clothes…

You’ve marched into your bathroom. You met your own gaze in the mirror, eyes boring into every aspect of your reflection. You had fallen asleep in your clothes from yesterday. The jean skirt felt too snug and itchy against your skin. Your crop top had you feeling too exposed for comfort. Who would wear something like this in the Winter? What, had he made you immune to temperature, too?

_“Don’t understand how you can just walk around carrying that jacket like an accessory. How are you not freezing your ass off?”_

_"How can you even touch that? Shit's piping hot!"_

You yank off the garments, not even flinching at the sound of tearing. Practically flying into the shower, you turn the lever all the over to the hottest setting. It comes down freezing cold. Nothing. It begins to warm up. Nothing. It’s boiling hot. Nothing. A frustrated scream rips its way out of your throat. Your arm reels back, pounding against the tile wall. It crumbles, caving in around the shape of your fist. Your screams fall into sobs. 

Brigall allows tears to fall, but delicately wipes them away, trying to muster a smile through the tears. (L/N) wallows in the pain, screaming through the chaos of tears and drool and snot. Which one are you? 

_Who are you?_

* * *

The room is silent, save for the jingle of Renji’s collar as she weaves between your ankles. You sit on your living room couch, staring out of the long window beside you. You could see so much from here--it was soothing enough. Buildings differ in height, creating a dynamic cityscape. Far below, cars drive past, and from your distance they appear to move so slowly. Renji meows softly, climbing onto the couch and headbutting your hand. Even when you spiral and cry your heart out, even when you change into the drabbest clothes you had worn in months, the cat was still stuck to your side. You appreciated it...if only your friends would be the same.

You just know that they wouldn’t. Your heart aches. Even as you waivered between identities, the adoration you’ve developed for your friends stands strong. It was genuine. As the artificial naivete of your faux personality continues to fade, you only find more clarity in your feelings. It even seemed that, in some relationships, there was something there....a spark. But none of that mattered now.

A knock pulls you from your pity party. It’s sturdy and a little demanding--it scares the shit out of you, honestly. Your immediate instinct is to ignore it--probably a neighbor coming to complain about all of the screaming and yelling. There was nobody you could think of that you would _want_ to see at the moment. Well, let’s rephrase. There was nobody that you’d want to see _you_ at the moment. However, whoever it was, they were pretty persistent. Their silence rubs you the wrong way. Anyone would have started calling at this point. It’s only a matter of time before it actually starts to get on your nerves.

“Oh my god, what, _what,_ fucking _what!?”_ Huffing, you hoist yourself off of the couch, heavily stomping over to the front door. In a fit of impulse, you swing open the door without looking, running on the urge to give the person a piece of your mind. However, as you come face to face with dark, intense eyes partially obstructed by a beanie, your mind immediately goes blank. Kyohei’s eyes have gone wide as he stands there. You’re suddenly aware that, with your tear-blotted eyes and sweatsuit-clad frame, you look like a mess. 

“...Is this er...a bad time?

 _Yes._ “No,” you croak. You want to slap yourself the minute your voice cracks. The two of you stand there, staring at each other. Oddly enough, even as your gaze flutters to everywhere but his eyes, his own gaze is steady--focused on you. You don’t suppose he came just to stand on your front doormat. He wanted you to let him in.

 _You_ wanted to let him in--tell him about all that’s been plaguing you, ask for his advice, and listen as he reassures you through it all. That’s what you were always able to do...but you couldn’t exactly do whatever you wanted anymore.

So you cross your arms and lean against your doorframe, intent on staying right where you are. He notices this, sighing through his nose in that way he only does in response to Walker and Erika’s shenanigans. “The others are downstairs,” he says finally, flicking his head in a pointing gesture. The others--you missed them. How long had it been since you all hung out? You force a thin-lipped smile. “Tell ‘em I said hi.”

“They were kinda hoping to do that in person--they want to see you... _I_ wanted to see you.”

 _Snap a quick picture, then._ You bite your tongue. That’s not the right thing to say. That’s not what Brigall would say. No, Brigall’s heart is melting, sighing at the sentimentality of your friends’ concern--and feeling guilty for being the cause of it. 

“Y’know, yeah, on second thought, this is a bad time. Sorry.” Yet you don’t close the door. You wait--for him to walk away, you tell yourself. 

“That’s fine.” You finally make eye contact with him, taken off guard by his response. Kyohei only nods, not at all deterred. “But we could help you through a bad time...that’s what friends are for.”

Your heart clenches at the word ‘friends’. It occurs to you that Kyohei doesn’t know who he’s talking to. He doesn’t know that the girl he had become friends with was fading away by the second. Your fingers tighten around your own arms. “I don’t need help. Just some alone time would be great.” You back into your apartment this time, pushing the door closed. However, a hand pushes back against the door, stopping you.

Your eyes dart to Kyohei, who stands in the small sliver in the doorway. “If you think some stupid video is gonna change anything, you’re wrong.” Your wide eyes blink at him incredulously. He had never been this pushy before. He always cared, but he still carried an 'I won’t force you' attitude. It frightened you, knowing that running from him wouldn’t be as easy as you’d thought. “No one gives a shit what happens on the news or what rumors people are spreading,” he continues, his eyes staring directly into your own.

“It didn’t just happen on the _news_ Kyohei, it _happened._ ”

“You really think we haven’t seen worse? You don’t have to start avoiding everyone, just because you’re embarrassed.”

“Oh, so you know everything now! You read my mind, I’m locking myself up because I’m _embarrassed_.” A mix of fear, helplessness, and shame overwhelms to the point that your tone begins to waver. Your voice is rising to compensate for its unsteadiness. Kyohei doesn’t raise his voice back and that bothers you more. 

“No, you aren’t. I know you wouldn’t, so obviously, there’s something else.”

He was right. You hate that he’s right.

“There’s _not,_ Kyohei.”

“Y’know, I have a hard time believing that--you and I both know that you could force this door closed right now if you wanted to, so something must be up--”

“ _It’s none of your_ **_goddamn_ ** _business!”_

A dam breaks. Your voice drops into an octave that Brigall wouldn’t use. You’ve gotten so used to tears in such a short time--you don’t even bother to wipe them away as they trickle down. You can only stand there, staring down at your own two feet. “Please, leave me alone,” you plead, your voice shrinking. You don’t look up at him, fearful of what look could have overtaken his face. Silence stretches out for what feels like an eternity. 

The weight against the door suddenly dissipates, allowing you to push it closed. You can hear the sounds of footsteps, moving further and further away until they’re no longer audible. Pressing your forehead against the door, you allow your body to collapse, sliding down to your knees. 

Fuck, what have you done?

* * *

 **_Kanra:_ ** _Anyone catch the spectacle that went down yesterday?_ _  
_**_Setton:_ ** _You’re going to have to be more specific._ _  
_**_Kanra:_ ** _It’s all over the internet!_ _  
_**_Kanra:_ ** _There’s a girl in Ikebukuro who’s just as strong as Shizuo Heiwajima._ _  
_**_Kanra:_ ** _Some wonder if she’s even stronger!_ _  
_**_Bakyura:_ ** _Wait, that was real? I thought it was all special effects from Yuuhei Hanejima’s team!_ _  
_**_Kanra:_ ** _Nope. People saw it in the flesh!_ _  
_**_Setton:_ ** _People are really blowing this out of proportion without knowing all the facts…_ _  
_**_Taro Tanaka:_ ** _I agree, Setton! I mean, stronger than Shizuo Heiwajima?_ _  
_**_Taro Tanaka:_ ** _That’s just ridiculous ^.^_ _  
_**_Kanra:_ ** _It could be true, though...Afterall, she’s withstood a hit from him before!_ _  
_**_Bakyura:_ ** _Huh? What hit?_ _  
_**_Kanra:_ ** _Wow, you guys should really keep up with the current events!_ _  
_**_Kanra:_** _A month ago, people saw_ _Shizuo hurl a traffic sign directly at her and it just bounced off of her like it was completely nothing!_ _  
_**_Setton:_ ** _I don’t think that’s exactly what happened...It was definitely an accident._ _  
_**_Setton:_ ** _I’m assuming._ _  
_**_Kanra:_ ** _What do you think, Saika?_ _  
_**_Saika:_ ** _Huh?_ _  
_**_Kanra:_ ** _You’ve been quiet since you joined. Have you heard anything about this?_ _  
_**_Saika:_ ** _Oh...yeah._ _  
_**_Saika:_ ** _I just can’t stop thinking about how frightened that girl must be. I wonder what she’s doing now…_ _  
_**_Bakyura:_ ** _Yeah, me too._ _  
_**_Kanra:_ ** _Well!_ _  
_**_Kanra:_ ** _I would love to impart more wisdom unto you all, but I am needed elsewhere!_ _  
_**_Taro Tanaka:_ ** _Yeah, I should go too…_ _  
_**_Setton:_ ** _Night everyone!_ **_  
_** **_Saika:_ ** _Good night_ **_  
_** **_Bakyura:_ ** _Later!_

 **_Taro Tanaka_ ** _has left the chat_ _  
_**_Setton_ ** _has left the chat_ _  
_**_Saika_ ** _has left the chat_ _  
_**_Bakyura_ ** _has left the chat_ _  
__…_  
 _(Private)_ **_Kanra_ ** _: Hey, what’s with the lurking?_ _  
__(Private)_ **_Kanra:_ **You didn’t say anything the entire time you were here...Not trying to ditch us, are you?

 **_Sora_ ** _has left the chat._


	27. symbiosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> community gardens - the scary jokes
> 
> "the years have been hard on this lonely heart  
> if you wanna know the truth  
> there's no more community gardens  
> so i guess i'll have to settle for you,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all have no clue how excited i get when i find songs that perfectly fit with a chapter i get so gassed jakjakfs
> 
> tw: blood, implied prostitution
> 
> (sometimes i read my own warnings and I'm like 'damn' this shit rly has gotten a bit darker :o)

_I know your secret. What are you willing to sacrifice to protect it? Let’s find out._ _  
__The back alley 6700 Senkawa at 8:30PM_

You hadn’t left your apartment in a week. Your fridge quickly dwindled in supply, but delivery soon became your best friend. Normally, you’d admit to suffering from cabin fever, but in such a large apartment, you couldn’t really complain. It was certainly larger than any apartment you grew up in….and you had spent time holed up before. 

The isolation was the hard part. There had been multiple occasions where you grabbed your phone, fixing to send a text to one of your dear friends--before stopping yourself. The only source of interaction you had was Renji--you had even arranged for your food to be dropped off at your front door to avoid contact with the delivery driver.

It was rough, but you were getting by.

Of course, something else had to come along and ruin that. 

Checking the crumpled note in your hands, you can’t help but glare at it. Your hood is pulled tightly over your head as you weave through pedestrians. Figures, there would be so many people out today. Anxiety riddles every part of your being. Honestly, the nature of the note has you skeptical. For someone to come forward, threatening you about your secrets _right_ after you just uncovered them yourself? It’s oddly coincidental. Besides, with the resources it took _others_ to find out, how did some rando manage to get their hands on it?

Makes you suspect foul play. After all, you wouldn’t put it past a certain information broker to let it slip. Whatever the situation was, you certainly didn’t want to take any chances. As your eyes scan the ominous scrawl on the slip of paper, however, you realized that you were still taking just as big of a chance. 

Your shoulder suddenly collides with someone else’s, and since your focus was elsewhere, you didn’t even make out who it was. You remain steady on your feet, but they stumble a little from the impact. With all of the unsavory characters that could be roaming the streets at this time of night, you don’t look forward to facing whoever it is. However, the altruistic, polite voice in your head tells you to stop and apologize. “Hey, sorry about tha—.”

Your voice stops in your throat as you finally catch a glimpse of the person’s face. It’s a familiar face—a childish face, framed by blue-ish black hair. Aoba stares back at you, visibly confused by the sudden silence. His eyes narrow as they scan your face, before shining with a light of recognition. “(Y/N)! Is that you?” Had he not recognized you at first? You guess, with the atypical choice of fashion, you could be mistaken for someone else. Dammit, if you had just kept walking, he wouldn’t have even recognized you!

Looking at him yourself, though, the thought crosses your mind that _you_ don’t really recognize _him._ Granted, he looked the same and dressed the same, but his demeanor seemed kinda…bright. A friendly smile decorated the face that had only glanced at you indifferently before. It almost unsettled you.

“Y-yeah, hey, it’s me. Anyways, sorry about that.” You practically toss the words at him as you turn to leave, eager to get away from him. You didn’t know why you were so horrified—it’s not like this boy was one of your close friends. But somehow, him only being an acquaintance makes you feel worse. Had he seen the news? Who are you kidding, of course he had. If not the news, he had to have heard about you somewhere else.

“In a bit of a hurry, huh? That’s a shame, I was happy to see you!” You glance back at him, eyebrows furrowed. He stared back, still beaming in your direction. 

“You’re awful chipper,” you murmur unconsciously. He reminds you of someone. A boy you haven’t seen in a while...you briefly wonder how Masaomi must be doing.

“I could say the opposite for you.” He was right. Compared to the last exchange between you two, it was like you guys had switched personalities. You knew what was going on with you—what could possibly be going on with him? Shaking your head, you turn your back on him once more.

“Gotta go. See ya.” You don’t acknowledge any response, instead continuing to trudge ahead as fast as possible. The whole encounter left your head swirling with numerous thoughts; thoughts that you have to push aside in favor of the situation at hand. 

As you finally turn into the alley leading to your destination, your heart rate pulses at how shady it looks. This definitely wasn’t a place where good, righteous people would hang out. Sighing a long breath, you traversed deeper into the darkness. A lamp flickers as you walk past it, doing little to effectively illuminate the space. 

In the darkness, you finally make out a figure standing further along in your path. Their back is to you as they lean against the wall. Checking the address, you confirm that you’ve reached your destination. This had to be them. For a moment, you just stand there awkwardly, unsure of how to get their attention. Did you even want their attention? You guess you did, if you were gonna talk to them. You hesitantly raise a fist to the metal bin to your right, lightly rapping your knuckles against it. The figure jolts to attention, turning in your direction at the noise.

He’s scrawny and pale, his drab sweatshirt swallowing his frame. The two of you stare each other down, eyes scanning each other. You lift your hand up beside your face, its fingers grasping the poorly penned note. “I take it this is from you?” You cautiously approach him. He leaves the wall he was leaning against, stepping closer to you. The movement stops you in your tracks. You don’t want to be any closer.

Now that he’s in the light, he only looks sicklier. He couldn’t have been much older than you. Probably younger, actually, now that you’re 23. What’s a guy like this doing, messing around with strangers? Someone could easily get a hand around his throat and scare him off. _You_ could, in fact...You instantly shake the thought off, berating yourself for the thought. “What do you want?” you ask plainly. “C'mon, is it money? How much? I’d have to get my checkbook from my place, but I could probably just mail it to you.” Honestly, you were ready to pay up and get the whole thing over with. The more time you spent outside of your apartment, the more your nerves were driving you crazy. You rummage through your bag in search of your phone, fixing to ask for the man’s address.

“You.” 

Your movements stop at the sound of his scratchy voice. Your eyebrows furrow at him in confusion. “‘Me?’ What, do you want my organs? Sorry to say, dunno if I can give you that much--.”

“To work for me...I-I want you for labor.” His voice is creepily low in timbre, and as it wavers with anxiety, it only wigs you out more. He fiddles with his person, shoulders occasionally jerking. You find yourself sneakily stepping backwards, less compliant than before. Something about him seems...unhinged. “What kind of labor?” You keep your tone level, attempting to mask your growing wariness. 

“Y...you could make me a lot of money. You’re hiding under those baggy clothes, but I can tell...you’ll attract lots of customers!” Your mind immediately assumes the worst. He notices you pulling away and continues to advance on you.

“I’m not up for that. You can take the money or leave it.” His eyes narrow and he moving. 

“You don’t have a choice….yeah...I-if you don’t, I’ll tell everyone your secret!” As much as his words implied it, he didn’t exactly sound or look like he had the upper hand in the situation. He was a bundle of nerves and uncertainty. 

“And y-you’re so _weak and helpless_ ...there’s nothing you can do to stop me. _I have the power!”_ Your ears perk at his words. _Weak and helpless…._ Why would he say something like that? That doesn’t exactly corroborate anything he must know about you. “You’ll be my first girl...and once I find more girls….more weak, unfortunate women...I’ll make so much money...I’ll be so--!”

“What _is_ my secret, exactly?” That seems to put him on his breaks. His movements come to a halt and his wide eyes make contact with yours for what must have been the first time that night. Your eyes glare right back, his silence giving you all the answers you need. “You must know if you’re threatening to expose it, right? So, what is it?”

He only wilts further, losing all of the nerve he’d just possessed. “Well...I, um--That’s not--!” 

“That’s what I thought. Well, thanks for wasting my time. I’m outta here.” You turn your back on him without another word, already caught up in your own personal fuming. You really had come all the way out here for nothing. The guy probably caught a lucky break on a weak bluff. Said guy can still be heard sputtering behind you. When that sputtering turns into enraged screaming, however, you’re inclined to turn back around.

He’s lunging at you, empty hands flailing in your direction. He swings a fist at you. It comes into contact with the forearm you raise in front of you, before being batted away by your other hand. His body reels around from the force. The back of his neck presents itself to you and you take advantage of the opening. You grasp it, using the leverage to shove him against the wall beside you. The sickening slam of his face against brick makes you cringe. Your grasp loosens only seconds after tightening around his neck. 

He slides down the wall, crumpling to the ground. You back away from his body, still reeling from the adrenaline. Your breathing only continues to constrict as you watch blood begin to pool around his head. Anxiety wells up within you the longer he lays still. A panicked scream rises into your throat and your hand flies to your mouth to muffle it. Fuck. _Fuck, you didn’t…_

“Looks like the massacre never ends with you, hm?” The rapid beating of your heart speeds to a halt at the sound of a new voice. No, not new. You had heard it many times before. You don’t bother to look up at him, his appearance in your peripheral confirming your suspicions. Izaya joins you in staring down at the man’s incapacitated form, although his smile greatly contrasts his face from yours. His foot prods the body and, to your greatest relief, the man twitches. 

“Well, well, looks like he’s still with us. Whaddya say, should we leave him?”

His voice dances in and out of your subconscious. You’re still savoring the feeling returning to your body. Your head still feels numb as you shake it from side to side. “Ambulance...w-we need to call someone!” You finally look up at him, not acknowledging the easy look on his face. His grin only broadens as you meet his gaze.

“Way ahead of you.” Before you can even comprehend the statement, the distant sound of sirens meets your ears. They grow louder, almost as if they’re growing closer. Something snatches your wrist, and suddenly you’re being pulled out of the alley--in a different direction from whence you came. “Don’t wanna stick around too long, do you?” Izaya looks back at you as he pulls you along, that same grin plastered on its face. Somewhere in your spiraling conscience, you find an odd sort of comfort in it.

Looking behind you, you can see red and blue light blossoming from the dark alley you had just emerged from. You wonder why you haven’t broken paths with Izaya, yet. Why haven’t you yanked yourself from his hold and ran in another direction? That’s what you should do--after all that he’s done to you and others. Yet, you let him pull you along. 

Your mind is so muddled and dumbfounded, all you can do is follow the man’s lead. Here you are, running again. But the grasp on your wrist--it keeps you grounded. You were running again...but someone was running with you. Regardless of who he is, what he had done, some tiny, desperate part in your brain was just happy that you weren’t alone.

So you didn’t pull away. You just kept running.

* * *

The cup of tea sits on the table in front of you, steaming less and less for every second it remains untouched. The couch you had previously sat in several times, now felt smaller. 

“Waiting for it to cool?” Izaya prods, eyes gleaming at you with amusement. 

You don’t dignify him with a response. You shouldn’t be here. Walking in and seeing the way that Namie looked at you, it snapped you out of whatever trance you were in. Surveying your surroundings, it strikes you how recognizable everything is. After so many visits, it felt as though you had this place memorized. Even your backside had grown accustomed to the press against the firm, leather couch. It was soothing a deep-seated itch you didn’t know you had. A hunger for familiarity. 

“I must say--I know you’ve been here many times before...but after everything, it’s like I have an entirely new person in front of me!” Izaya stretches his back and arms, making himself appear longer; lither. He leans forward onto his knees. “I’m Izaya Orihara, it’s nice to meet you.”

The man is trying to push your buttons. He knows exactly what’ll make you tick. Once again, you don’t supply him the reaction he’s so obviously craving. Is that all he brought you here for? Entertainment? Finally meeting his gaze, your eyes stare unabashedly into his own. Even that provides him some sort of satisfaction, you can tell by the glint in his irises. A man who found joy in prodding at people like microbes in petri dishes.

“That guy...you had something to do with him.” It’s not a question, but a hard statement. Izaya’s impish smile widens. 

“You don’t seem so angry about it, considering your presence here,” he says breezily. So, he wasn’t even going to try and deny it. It’s known by him and you both that he’s right. Why is that? He sent some crazy dude after you to attempt to force you into some shady business. Maybe you would be mad--if it was unexpected behavior for him. But it wasn’t. 

“What was his deal?” The question rolls off of your tongue so easily; casually. Your eyes are still trained on him, no strain in your lids or pupils.

“Poor guy had fallen into debt. Parents kicked him out. No places would hire him. ” Of course, he’s happy to answer. Bet the guy loves the sound of his own voice. “Somehow, he got his hands on my name and came to me. Told me all about his plan for his own brothel. Now, I don’t know why he figured that _I’d_ be the best person to come to, but he was willing to pay up, so naturally, I obliged.”

“And you told him to blackmail me and gave him my address.” You finish the story for him. It all sorts itself out, almost painfully obvious. Then, he arrived at the scene to watch the events unfold for themselves. “You even knew to call an ambulance.”

“For him, or for you--whichever one would be needed. Though I anticipated the former a bit more.”

“How thoughtful.” You’re surprised by the airy sarcasm in your voice. There was no edge or animosity...one could even misinterpret it as good natured. Shamelessness drips from every feature of his face. Shamelessness and pride. Sitting there, so unabashed about his own actions that put you in danger and landed someone else in the hospital. 

“What’s with the silence? Wondering why I did it?” 

“No.” There’s no fault in his expression, other than the opening of his eyes. The first movement of his that isn’t calculated down to the millisecond, you can tell. Satisfaction dances through you. He wanted a game; he wanted entertainment. Why else would he go to such trouble, not to mention drag you here? Picking up the teacup in front of you, you finally take a long drink. The sweet flavor is heaven on your tongue, drawing a hot, contented sigh from you. The top of Izaya’s head peeks out from the rim of the mug. His eyelids have fallen once more, as if they’d never parted. 

“I do wonder how you sleep at night, though. You must be some sort of sociopath.” You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, or _why_ you’re even talking. It just feels good to speak, knowing that someone was listening. 

“And what does that make you?”

His words didn’t hurt like they did last time. It’s not like it wasn’t the first time such a self-deprecating thought had crossed your mind. You’re almost numb to it by now. You had to be--otherwise, you’d spend each night caught up in the same torturous pattern. You wonder--is that his reasoning, too? Perhaps you were growing more and more like the man sitting across from you. Numb and careless; and perfectly satisfied with that. The porcelain against your lips is lukewarm as you take another drink.

“...I don’t know.”

But you didn’t like this. You’ve shut down before--on the streets, under the scalpel. It’s no better than the pain and remorse and suffering. And the desire for things to be normal, to see your friends again...was that something you could ever throw away? 

“I think _I_ do! But I don’t suppose I can judge you for it, now can I?” Your gaze flickers to him at that. God, what a smarmy looking piece of shit. Even your first blinded, naive moments with him, he reeked of bad news. He couldn’t look unassuming if he tried. You wonder if he had to overcome that desire--to have friends. Could he even make them, being the way he was? “Doesn’t that soothe you? Knowing that in this moment, you’re completely free of judgement? You wouldn’t exactly have this feeling anywhere else, would you?”

He probably couldn’t. He probably spends every hour of the day in this huge apartment, only drawing himself out to wreak havoc on the city. People come in, use his services, then leave. The only person you see sticking around is Namie, who just works for him. How lonely is he? If he feels loneliness at all...but every human does. Is that why he’s brought you here? Knowing that you’re reeling with self-loathing and outcast, he’s trying to take advantage of that. Afterall, desperate or not, it makes no difference--company is company. Were those his thoughts, or just yours?

“You speaking from experience?” His face does something weird, then. It tightens, almost sours. Your teacup is near empty, but you take fake sips from it anyway. 

A hummingbird feeding itself and spreading a flower’s seed in the process. The rhino who houses the oxpecker, constantly cleansed of all bugs and parasites as the oxpecker consumes them all. A clownfish protecting a sea anemone from predators, and receiving a home in return. 

Looking at this man, for a moment, he’s not a predator or selfish parasite. He’s bacteria, aiding in your digestion while you provide a sustainable environment for him to inhabit. 

That was all a gratuitously poetic way of saying that you’re considering settling for Izaya Orihara. 


End file.
